


Blood in Your Eyes

by PDF



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Amnesia, But not that different, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Established Relationship, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, How Do I Tag, Humanstuck, I build a fluffy little house then tear it down, Insanity, Intentionally OOC Dave, Lies, Losing sanity, Love, M/M, Memories come later, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Psycho Dave, Psychosis, Regaining Sanity, Self-Harm, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2017-12-29 07:09:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 23,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PDF/pseuds/PDF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave spontaneously loses his mind, kills Jade, and is put in a mental hospital for 5 years. He then wakes up with no recollection of who he is or what he's done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Eyes

You open your eyes. A white ceiling greets you with indifference. You try to sit yourself up, but your arms tug against something and won’t move the way you want them to. You sit up without them and promptly realize you’re in a white straightjacket. The walls are just as white as the ceiling, but as a bonus, they’re padded. A sinking feeling descends in the pit of your stomach and you hope to god you aren’t where you think you are.

Oh fuck you are.

You can’t for the life of you remember what got you here, when you got here, or even who you are really, and that prospect terrifies you. You scan the room and see that it has no door, only a slight indentation in the padding showing the outline of a door. Of _course_ there’s not going to be a handle on the inside of the room. Nevertheless, you notice a video camera in the corner of the room, presumably recording your every move. It would not be an understatement to say that this is the scariest moment of your life, but then you realize that this is the only moment of your life you can remember, and that really freaks you out.

You feel it’s futile at the moment, but you nevertheless stand up and try to commune with your captors… or something. You don’t feel very crazy, so you don’t think you should be here. That’s how it’s supposed to go right? You push down the nerves bubbling in your stomach and walk over to the camera, look directly at it and speak. 

“Hey.”

Your throat is dry and your voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard. You don’t want to think about why, but you do think that that might as well have been the dumbest thing you have ever said in your entire life. You clear your throat and speak again.

“Can I… please, talk to someone?”

You stare at the camera which blankly returns your gaze for about an entire minute before sighing and sitting yourself down in another corner of the room. Well this is your life now. Forever alone in a shitty padded room in an insane asylum for a reason you can’t even remember. You can’t help but think something’s ironic about it, but you can’t remember what. You just can’t remember anything, and that really, really saddens you. You can’t even grip your head in frustration. You can’t do anything but sit here and rot away until you die.

When the tears come, they fall silently. That doesn’t last too long though. You eventually go into full-on mourning mode. You curl up into a ball, your head against your knees and cry. Something tells you you shouldn’t be, but damn if you’re going to let a phantasm of a memory tell you what you can and can’t do.

You continue as you try your damnedest to pull off sleeping, seeing as how there’s no reason to stay awake. Try as you might, you just can’t, and you find yourself crying all over again. That is, until the door to the room is opened. You immediately shut yourself up and look up at the figure standing in the doorway. There stands a woman in medical scrubs that shrinks back a bit at your gaze. She seems so scared that it hurts. It makes you feel like a monster even when you know you’re not.  
Even when you think you’re not.

“Dave?” Her voice has a subtle note of fear to it that speaks volumes as she says the name, and it takes you a moment to realize it’s your name. Dave. Your name is Dave. You are Dave…

You’re no closer to remembering anything that you were a moment ago.

She continues. “What did you say Dave?” You’re struck with nervousness at this. You never were very familiar with how insane asylums work nowadays. Or perhaps maybe you are and that is why you’re nervous. You don’t know. You aren’t Dave anymore.

“I- I said I wanted to talk to someone…” You have a distinct feeling that what you just said was stupid. Like, it could have been said a million ways better. You suppose that might’ve been who you used to be; some nerd who says everything annoyingly verbose. Well if that’s the person you were you’re just fine with not being him anymore.

“Well… What would you like to talk about?” Her own nervousness is palpable. You draw conclusions why that make you shudder. You start wondering who’s more afraid of you, you or her.

“Why am I here?”

She’s seems even more nervous than before, and you can’t help but wonder how that’s possible.

“Dave, you… don’t you… know... why… you’re here?” The pauses between her words voice the awkward. You wish you could make it go away, crack a joke or something, but you fear the only jokes you can think of are in bad taste.

“Pretty sure that’s why I asked.” You really hope that wasn’t the answer of a douchenozzle.

She seems to be calming down a little, but her face is something somber. You can tell now she’s about to deliver bad news. It’s pretty obvious really.

“Five years ago you had been diagnosed with clinical insanity. Dave you… you haven’t spoken a single word coherently for the past 5 years.”

“What.” That’s all you can say. Not even as a question, but more a statement of your confusion, because seriously. What.

“From what your file had told me, it had something to do with meeting your friends for the first time.”

“Friends?”

“Yes. They visit… occasionally…” If you’re reading between the lines correctly, she basically said they don’t visit anymore. That figures. That sort of stuff happens to lunatics. Can’t really blame them… you guess… they have their own lives after all…

“Are you feeling… better?”

“Better than what?”

She flinches at this. “I- I can’t do this.”

Just like that she leaves you, closing the door behind her and leaving you alone and mopey again. You have no life now. You apparently had one, but not anymore. You can’t imagine how you’re supposed to get back into living a normal life anymore, or even if they’re going to let you. You can’t imagine where you’re going to live, who your parents are, or if they’ll even take you back now that you’re suddenly not insane. So supposedly you just went… psycho on them? How does that even work? Is that even possible? What about your friends?

You suddenly have the urge to vomit. You try not to think anything else and just go to sleep. Maybe when you wake up you can be done with this place. You’ve been here for maybe an hour, as far as you can remember, and you already hate it.  
You shut your eyes and let the stubborn throes of sleep take you.


	2. Emerald Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk gets a call from the hospital. He chooses to bring along Jake.

It’s John’s birthday.

You should be happy right now.

Fuck.

You can’t help yourself.

You are just obsessed with ruining the day for him. Why else would you vehemently refuse to attend his party?

You tell yourself he doesn’t mind. You tell yourself Dirk goes to the party without you even though you find out he doesn’t every single time.

That’s because he’s as sad as you are.

John’s birthday is the anniversary of Jade’s death, 5 years ago. Even worse was that Dave was the one who killed her. Dirk’s brother, your boyfriend’s brother, killed your little sister. Nobody can say why. All they know is that when them, John, and Rose finally met in real-life, Dave decided to pull out a blade and… and…

Fuck.

You cry to yourself helplessly in bed. The hot tears stream down your cheeks and simply refuse to be quelled in any way. You smash your face into your pillow as the tears cascade endlessly.

You miss her. You miss her so much it hurts. You hate him. You hate him with your heart and soul. Dave fucking Strider killed your perfect little sister, and he doesn’t even go to jail for it. No, he goes to a fucking hospital.

You visited him there once. He was a snarling madman. Why. Why!? Why did he have to ruin your perfect group of 8!? Why did he have to just lose it!?

You realize your moaning had become screaming and you try your best to shut up before the neighbors start complaining. You didn’t even notice you started to moan to begin with.

It hurts. It just plain hurts. It’s an agonizing truth that crushes your heart, hopes, and joy and just stays there. It’s an emptiness in the pit of your very being that’s slowly consuming you like a bladed black hole. It’s a poison that spreads like black death until it consumes your entire body and turns it into a sobbing, shaking husk of sad.

You would continue being an emotional mess for the rest of the day if you didn’t hear a ringing in your pocket. That was odd. Your friends usually respect that you didn’t want to talk to people on this day. You take out your phone anyway just to see who it is. It’s Dirk. _Oh god_ what could he possibly want? You press the answer button and stick the phone to your ear. You don’t feel like starting the conversation, so you stay silent, waiting for him to say something first.

“Jake.”

His voice is hoarse. You think it odd. He never cried after the first time, he just remained stoic and broody whenever he was sad over it. You can only imagine he’d just got done yelling at someone or something. It was a real possibility.

You don’t want to continue the conversation, even though you don’t know what it’s about. You just want to wallow. He better have a good reason for bothering you today of all days.

“Yes?”

“I got a call earlier. It was about Dave.”

You feel your heart clench in rage at the mention of his name.

“They say his condition’s improved like magic, their words. They said I should come to see him.”

You choke back a sob. You’re screaming _it’s not fair_ and calling bullshit over and over in your mind. You feel a million times worse. Why did he have to tell you on the anniversary? Why!?

“Why are you calling me?”

“I thought you’d want to come.”

“WHY ON GOSHBLASTED EARTH WOULD I WANT TO COME!?”

“Because you want closure.”

Dirk always knew how to read your innermost feelings effortlessly, even without conversing face-to-face. Quite frankly, it wasn’t fair.

Fuck it.

“FINE! YOU’RE GOING TO TAKE ME THERE, I’M GOING TO GIVE HIM A PIECE OF MY MIND, AND YOU ARE GOING TO ESCONCE YOURSELF SILENTLY LIKE A TIMID PHEASANT WHILE IT HAPPENS! GOT IT?”

“Jake, calm down. From what I’ve heard he might not even remember.”

“OH, WELL THAT’S JUST DANDY! LUCKY BASTARD CAN’T EVEN REMEMBER!”

“Jake, I said might.”

“YOU MIGHT AS WELL HAVE SAID HE’S DEFINITELY INNOCENT!”

“Jake, he is.”

“I DON’T CARE! I DON’T CARE I DON’T CARE I DON’T CARE!”

“Jake, just come outside and get in the damn truck.”

You hear a honk outside your house and groan. You get up, wipe your face on your sleeve, then take your sweet time getting ready. It must’ve been ten minutes before you finally leave your house. Dirk’s waiting in his faded orange pick-up truck with his indifferent expression as always, but something seems ever so slightly off about it. You get into the passenger seat and buckle yourself in without a word. He’s looking at you and you’re sure he’s noticed how your eyes have gotten after all that crying. He says nothing, shifts into drive, then begins the long trip to the Skaia mental hospital.

Quite frankly, you don’t know what you’re doing here. Maybe Dirk needed emotional support for the obvious drama bomb that awaited? Maybe he wants you and Dave to get along? (Fat chance of that happening. It’s going to take all of your self-restraint not to strangle the little cretin as is, and that’s if he behaves himself.)

You sigh to yourself and stare at the trees passing by, hoping one of them will spontaneously burst into flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aware it's impossible for black holes to have blades.


	3. Shaded Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave can't take a gruesome nightmare seriously.

Alone.

You’re all alone.

The loneliness envelops you like a shroud of scarlet mist. Your eyes water and you try to blink away the involuntary tears as the mist gets in your eyes. It takes you a while to realize the mist is literal.

You’re in a dark room. On second thought, you don’t even know if it’s a room or not, it’s just pitch-black. You consider taking off your shades but ultimately decide against it. Striders are just cool like that.

You start wondering what’s going on. Maybe you finally died. If only.

Your thoughts conflict with themselves. They clash and collide like shit and the hook during the following fights over child custody.

No wait that was stupid. What the hell are you even talking about? You have no clue, but whatever you’re doing, it’s giving you a migraine. You close your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose, as if it’ll bring you some semblance of clarity. Surprisingly it does, in the form of a smell. It’s a strong smell. So strong in fact that your eyes water. Or maybe that’s just the red mist? The what? Oh yeah, you had forgotten about that. So that means it’s back then? Had it even gone anywhere to begin with?

Are you having a conversation with yourself? Not cool.

Yes it is. It’s like the most perfectly natural thing to do. It’s like some god damn nature show starring Jake fucking English. He’s all ‘have a gander at this little bugger!‘ It’s like the guy is some kind of fucking sadist with a sloth fetish molesting all the sloths up and down ‘cause they’re too damn slothy to give a shit until hours after he leaves. He’s going around giving out post-traumatic stress disorders to all the innocent little sloth boys and girls like they’re cheap cigars. Meanwhile Dirk fucking Strider sits there watching and recording the whole damn thing with his fucking camera like the perverted voyeur he is.

THIS IS STUPID. THERE’S A FUCKING CORPSE AT YOUR FEET SPEWING BLOOD MIST AND ALL YOU’RE DOING IS RANTING ABOUT THE SICK SHIT YOUR BROTHER GETS UP TO.

That’s when you wake up.

Shit hits the fan immediately. Shit gets grinded by the fan into a big disgusting mess all over the place. The hook laments and confesses its undying love for shit. The hook is now a single parent struggling to make ends meet. Child protective services are breathing down the hook’s neck and the hook isn’t sure how it’s going to get through another day, but above all, hook just wishes shit would come back. Wishes that shit would come back and hold the hook in its arms and tell it that it’s all going to be ok.

Ok no, where the _fuck_ did that come from?

You ignore your own nonsensical mental tirade, shuddering at the thought of your lunacy returning and struggle to remember your dream. You’re still in a padded room wearing a straightjacket, still unsure of who you are or what you supposedly did. You’re glad you still remember yesterday or whatever time and date it was before you went to sleep anyway, so at least it’s not going to be some daily amnesia bullshit you’re sure you’ve heard about before but can’t remember where from. Still, the situation leaves much to be desired. You learned your name earlier, but you don’t even know your last name. Hell, you can hardly even remember your dream. All you can remember is that there was something about a better looking, green-eyed, tanner version of Steve Irwin molesting furry tree-climbing creatures. You think they were Koalas.

Well obviously there’s absolutely no significance to that dream, (you’re almost certain you cause a disturbance in the force by even thinking that for some reason) so you might as well forget about it completely.

Well. Now what?

This is exactly what you expected of being locked up in an insane asylum. Overwhelming, all-consuming, soul-crushing boredom accompanied by an equivalent feeling of loneliness. You’re pretty sure that if you spend too long in here, you’re going to go catatonic, because all there is to do for the next hour is stare blankly at a cushioned wall.

Thankfully, you are saved by your ocean of monotony by a new nurse that enters. She wears shiny red glasses and looks to be around your age, if a bit older. She balances a tray in one hand (the contents of which you cannot see from your perspective on the padded floor) and a small pistol-like gun that looks vaguely toy-like in the other. Whatever it’s for, (and you have a pretty good idea what) you doubt it’s lethal.

She strides in with an air of confidence, (you refrain from asking yourself ‘what for?’ Because you know the answer) a wicked, if a bit forced, smile on her face and stands a few feet in front of you. You sit up but make no attempt to move.

“Hello Dave.” Her voice somehow sounds both soft as velvet and rough as the grinding of rusty gears. You wonder how someone even pulls that off, even if they’re born with that kind of voice.

You attempt to remain casual and impassive as to prove you aren’t some kind of lunatic. You do this by answering with nothing more than a simple “Sup” Instead of the cascading deluge of questions and demands you wish you could release upon her. Judging by how she loosens the grip on what you assume to be a tranquilizer gun, you’d say it’s working.

“I’m your new custodian. I’ve bought you your breakfast.”

She walks closer and you sit up in response. She sets the tray down in front of you and you see that it has pancakes, a tiny box of cereal and some milk. You’re not sure what they serve in insane asylums, but you’re pretty sure the pancakes aren’t on the menu.

The woman moves around to your side and crouches down next to you.

“I’m going to remove the binds on your straightjacket now. I trust you won’t hurt me?”

You’re unsettled by that comment, but nod anyway. As soon as the bind for your left arm comes off, you get an uncomfortable sensation and you stretch it outward. You wonder how long it’s been stuck in that position. Based on the pain searing through your arm, you’d say quite a while.

As she unleashes your right arm, you make a likewise motion with it, stretching it out. The woman moves around you to sit across from you on the other side of the tray. You roll up your excessively long sleeves, pick up the box of cereal, and begin opening it.

“Dave, tell me, how are you feeling?”

“Pretty shitty. Being stuck in a padded room all day is boring as hell.”

At that she laughs. You think her reaction odd, but just continue pouring milk in your cereal to a favorable level.

The thing is, she doesn’t stop laughing. It’s joyous and just a bit too enthusiastic for this situation, even if what you said was some profound ironic piece of comedy gold. You raise an eyebrow as you start shoveling cereal into your mouth, all the while starting to open the cute little cup of syrup for your pancakes.

She eventually comes down from her vaunted position at cloud 9 and seems to address your confusion.

“Dave, it’s good to have you back.”

You don’t even bother to finish chewing before you ask her “you knew me?”

Her smile fades at this and she continues. “My name is Terezi. We were friends.”

Before you think it through, you immediately answer “what kind of friends?”

“I was the best at tranquilizing you when you got out.”

“Oh.” Is all you can say in response. You really wish you hadn’t asked. The prospect of you terrorizing a staff of defenseless nurses like a rabid monkey high on red bull was a huge downer. She must have noticed, because she quickly adds “but that’s all in the past, am I right?”

“It better be.” You take your first bite of the pancakes and find it nice and warm. You’re almost certain this isn’t standard cafeteria food.

“I agree. We’re sending you home today, so if you behave yourself, you’ll be out of here for good.”

You raise your head from your plate of pancakes. “Already?”

“It’s technically something of a trial period, but as long as you don’t magically relapse, there’ll be no need to return here.”

“Sounds cool.”

You continue eating while Terezi sits silently. The tranquilizer gun is abandoned to the side and her face is angled to stare into space. You think she’s doing the same thing you’re doing: trying to think of a way to phrase a question. In your case it’s where the fuck you are, who the fuck you are, and why the fuck you woke up in a padded room wearing a straightjacket.

You’re proven right as you finish up your meal. “So what do you remember?”

Well it looks like you won’t even have to ask. “Waking up in a padded room in a straightjacket.”

She frowns. “Anything else?”

“A nurse coming in and saying I’ve been a frothing lunatic for 5 years.”

She sighs. “Well, you wanna get out of this room?”

You’re highly tempted to give an extremely sarcastic rebuttal, but instead answer a simple “definitely.”

She leads you out of the padded room to which you take a moment to wince at the suddenly harsh light. She leads you through the cafeteria to drop off the tray and trash, then to a more administrative area to retrieve a white T-shirt and black aviators. She ushers you into a bathroom to change, remarking that you apparently used to wear the shades all the time. Once in the bathroom, you think you might have figured out why when you could see your bright scarlet eyes staring back at you. They really creep you out. Maybe they wouldn’t so much if you didn’t know that these would be the eyes you wore as you attacked people. A chill runs up your spine and you hastily change out of the straightjacket into the white shirt. Your pants are still a stark white and you can’t help but think the white clothing reminds you of something. You hate it when that happens. If you’re not going to remember things, being reminded you aren’t only makes you feel like shit.

You exit the bathroom donning your shades and finding the light levels much more favorable now. She takes you to a waiting room near the entrance to the place, off to the side, a ways away from the reception desk. You’re positioned so that you would be able to see anyone who walked up to the front desk, albeit at a distance. She says your relatives are coming to pick you up. You tell her that’s great, and you think you should feel that way, but really, all you feel is anxiety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://cyanokit.tumblr.com/post/61930863838


	4. Wet Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The quantity of shit has exceeded Dirk's maximum capacity.

The car ride was uneventful yet miserable. Jake was moping in the passenger seat the entire time, staring out the window with a scowl you could make out in the reflection. He really has a personal vendetta against the trees on this street.

You reach Skaia mental hospital all too soon. You don’t have butterflies in your stomach because fuck that, Striders don’t get butterflies, but you sure as hell have something in there. Pterodactyls do not accurately describe the creatures doing acrobatic fucking pirouettes around your heart, through your lungs and landing painfully in your stomach. We’re talking cactus dragons that breathe freaking plasma shuriken rampaging around in there. Nevertheless, you manage to open the door to your car, step out, and close it while still looking completely nonchalant to anyone happening to catch a glimpse of the action.

You hope you did anyway.

You go around the truck to open Jake’s passenger door for him since he decides to suddenly lose all knowledge pertaining to doors like a petulant child. When you do open it, he almost falls out and land face-first in the parking lot, as if he expected you to let him wait in the car.

You don’t say anything. You simply offer a hand for him to take so that you can drag him through this. 

You’re almost positive it’s more for you than it is for him. Stupid cactus dragons. You need to stay strong for your little bro. If he lost his memory, an older brother breaking down and crying on him like a gigantic sentimental sap is just going to make him feel bad. If you do break down, you know you’re going to be a big gross maple tree lactating in the lamest way possible.

You promise yourself you’re not going to cry, but you know it means absolutely nothing.

Jake, somehow synthesizing some tact from the atmosphere seems to realize how nervous you are and takes your hand, stepping out of the car and closing the door behind him.

You suddenly realize this is the most nervous you’ve ever been in your life. Questions like if he’ll reject you as a brother flash through your mind for only a moment before you catch yourself and shut those questions up. A Strider is supposed to be confident.

Oh who are you kidding? Striders are just fucking Striders. Now that you have Dave back, (or will, hopefully) it just really spotlights how stupid saying otherwise is. Maybe if Dave remembered it would help him transition back into his normal life, but if he doesn’t, it only puts unnecessary pressure on him.

Before you realize it, you’re stepping onto the sidewalk surrounding the hospital and you feel yourself get stiffer.

“Are you alright love?”

You turn your head to see Jake looking at you with concern. It occurs to you that he’s been pulling you along this entire time.

“Jake, can you promise me you’ll keep a lid on your infinite reservoir of fury? I mean, this is just the kind of situation where everything can go wrong and…”

“Dirk, relax. Just because I hate him doesn’t mean I can’t behave like a proper gentleman. Calm down.”

He stops and walks around you to stand in front of you. “I know you. You won’t mess this up. Have some confidence in yourself.” He gives you a chaste kiss on the lips, takes your hand again and resumes walking toward the hospital entrance.

You’re really glad you bought Jake. You were having second-thoughts when he said he was going to give Dave a piece of his mind, but it seems he noticed your distress. That really unsettles you, probably more than it should. Your calm façade is slipping. You’ll need a firm grip on yourself if you’re to take care of Dave, though maybe it’s more because you want to seem like your normal self when you make your first impression.

The walk from the truck to the hospital seemed a lot longer than it was, but you still think it’s all too soon when you step through the automatic double doors in the front.

You walk forward to go toward the front desk when you spot Dave sitting in the waiting area off to the side. He’s wearing his shades like he hasn’t in years and plain white hospital-standard clothing. He’s already looking at you, returning your gaze through two layers of shades with a raised eyebrow. You’re about to rush over to him and give him a sickeningly sentimental hug when he turns to the woman sitting next to him- a hospital employee and says something too quiet for you to hear. You then remember he probably doesn’t recognize you and he’s most likely making a snide remark on your shades. You weren’t expecting the best-case scenario, but you were hoping for better than this. You’re an idiot for letting yourself get optimistic. You feel your heart splinter a bit and the world becomes just a little bit darker.

After all these years you finally had him back. He was sitting there, perfectly normal, but he wasn’t your Dave. He wasn’t the brother you knew anymore and he would never be again. You still love him, but he doesn’t love you anymore. He doesn’t even know who you are.

You excuse yourself, ditching Jake with the receptionist who just finished dealing with the previous person and walk back outside. You don’t even reach the truck before you feel the tears burning your cheeks.

What a wimp.


	5. Blinded Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave goes home.

Waiting for your relatives to arrive was intensely aggravating. You can’t imagine how Terezi manages to sit comfortably in such a shitty chair. You’re uncomfortable and anxious and just all-around starting to consider excusing yourself to the bathroom again when you see a face you recognize at the front desk.

Framed in glasses and clad in short shorts, there’s the koala molester, holding hands with someone.

You lean over toward Terezi and say in a volume inaudible to anyone but her “I recognize that guy.”

She turns her head and says in a similar volume “so you’re starting to remember?”

“…No. He was in a dream I had last night.” You graciously omit the part about his fetishes.

“Well I suppose you would dream of him… He’s your brother and designated guardian.”

You look at him with a new light. Although you didn’t really scrutinize yourself in the bathroom, he looks nothing like you, but then that wouldn’t really stop him from being your brother.

You get up and walk to him. Whoever it was that he was holding hands with is gone now, but you never paid much attention to them. He’s being bombarded with forms by the receptionist and you’re pretty sure he hasn't even noticed you yet.

You tap on his shoulder.

“Bro?”

The moment you say it, he whips around with a look of surprise and… is it sorrow? You can’t say for certain, but he seems even more uncomfortable than you were on the shitty chairs and just as unnerved to boot.

“Dave?”

The fact that he knows your name is all the confirmation you need. You don’t think for this part. You act. You didn’t want an awkward barrier between you, so you simply take a step forward and wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. He was only a little taller than you, maybe a few inches, but in that moment you felt so small. You’re going to be relying on him for a while. You already feel like you owe him everything even if he’s only picking you up.

Yeah, he’s definitely your brother.

When his surprise dies down and he finally awkwardly reciprocates the hug is when the floodgates are unleashed. You spill your tears on his shirt because god damn. You have family now, and judging by how your guardian is your brother and he’s here with only some girlfriend or something, (interlaced fingers don’t seem very platonic) you’re guessing he’s your only family. You’re holding onto him for dear life, smashing your shades against your face and crying your eyes out. His awkward hug seems to gradually tighten and you feel both filled with joy and sadness at the situation. This is going to be hard for both of you, you know it.

You eventually quell your infinite reservoir of drama, but not without still holding onto your brother as if the moment you let go, he’s going to disappear.

“Dave, um… why don’t you go wait in the waiting room for the interregnum while I finish up this paperwork?”

His voice is sincere and innocent. Though you really rather stay here with him, you don’t want to fuck things up. Dear lord, you do not want to fuck anything up, so you comply and go to sit down near Terezi. She’s wearing an unreadable expression on her face, courtesy of her red glasses. When you sit down next to her, she’s still just staring, her mouth pressed into a thin line.

“What?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

It’s obviously not nothing, but you drop it anyway. She’s not going to tell you. About 10 more minutes of staring into space later, he comes around and says you’re going home with him. Terezi says goodbye and you walk out of the hospital, free. You take a deep breath of the air outside. This should probably feel more momentous than it does. What can you say? You haven’t even been in there for long.

Your brother leads you through the parking lot to a faded orange pick-up truck. You hop in the passenger seat as he gets in the driver’s side. He sticks the key in, starts the truck and starts driving out to your new home. Or maybe it’s your old one. It’s not as if you have any clue.

You take this opportunity to ask a question you quite frankly should have asked a lot earlier. “What’s your name?” Oh shit wait that one was a drama bomb wasn’t it?

He simply answers “Jake.” He sounds so positive. You think it almost unnatural considering the circumstance. Not a scintilla of negative inflection in there.

It’s when you pass by a flaming tree firemen are working desperately to put out that Jake elaborates on living arrangements. “So you’ll be living with me and Dirk in our apartment…”

Cutting his explanation short, you decide to ask. “Dirk?”

“Er… yes. He’s…” he’s blushing. “He’s my boyfriend.”

“Oh. He was the one you were holding hands with, right?"

“Erm… well yes… you’ll be living with Dirk and me in our apartment. There’s unfortunately only a single room and a couch, but Dirk has assured me you can pick out anywhere you want to sleep.”

You’re liking this Dirk guy already. “That’s nice of him.”

“You have no idea.”

“Hmm?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

"...So where is he? He taking a separate car?"

"Actually, he said he'll be walking home. He said he has errands to run and he's quite physically capable of traveling long distances by foot."

The remainder of the ride home is silent, the radio left off. Eventually you pull in to a parking lot of a modest apartment building and take the elevator to the top floor, just short of the roof level. It seems there’s only one apartment on each floor. You step out of it and into a stairwell. Jake produces a key and unlocks the only door on the floor to reveal the apartment. It’s a bit of a man-cave what with the turntables, collection of keyboards and myriad of wires in plain sight, but it’s nice nonetheless. There’s a TV, computer and couch to the right in a sort of living room, a door opposite of the door you came through and a fridge immediately to your left which transitions into the kitchen. Overall, you think the messy furniture layout conflicts with how neat everything is. They must’ve cleaned up the place in preparation. How thoughtful.

Jake goes through the door opposite, revealing a small hallway with two more doors on either side.

“Make yourself at home. I’ll be out in a bit.” And with that he goes into the door on the right, closing it behind him.

You go to sit on the couch when you notice an X-box beckoning you to play it.

You completely and utterly fail to resist the urge and start thrashing up stunts something uncannybrutal on your quest for “MAD SNACKS YO”.


	6. Orange Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk's evil scheme is revealed and chapter 5 suddenly makes sense.

It took you way longer than it should have to vanquish those cactus dragons, but they are completely and totally gone. You are almost certain of this.

When you walk back into the hospital, you can see Dave staring off into space in no direction in particular and Jake still filling out paperwork. You walk over and stand over him as he does so. He doesn’t even notice your presence. It’s about a full minute before he realizes you’re there and when he does he practically jumps.

“Strider! Where have you been!? A simple trip to the lavatory shouldn’t have taken that long!” His voice is just short of normal volume in a sort of whisper-yell. You’re guessing he’s taking care not to attract Dave’s attention. Thank you Jake.

“I was feeling a bit… nauseous.” That wasn’t a lie.

“Well when you were gone, he came and hugged me and cried all over me and it was just all kinds of flustering awkward!”

“Wait, he remembers you?”

“Um… I’m not sure. He called me ‘bro’ and I think he really thought I was his brother…”

“What happened when you told him you weren’t?”

His hand goes to the back of his neck and he looks down. “I… well I didn’t. He was crying and shaking and hugging me Dirk, I didn’t have it in me to tell him I wasn’t…”

A plan starts to take shape in your mind. Yes. Yes this is perfect. This should solve any potential problems before they exist. You are almost certain of this. So almost certain in fact that you think you should put it into action.

“Jake, can you do me a really big favor?”

He raises his head and withdraws his hand. “Oh? What is it?”

“Can you keep pretending he’s your brother?”

Jake splutters indignantly. “Dirk, you know very well I still hate him! He may be a victim here, but it’s still hard to be sympathetic to the murderer of your sister!”

“Please Jake, just for while. This is a really big deal and I don’t want to mess anything up. Dear lord, if I fuck this up…”

“Dirk, you won’t.”

“Yes Jake, yes I will. I already fucked up to high heaven when I couldn’t even keep a lid on my self-loathing long enough to meet my own brother. How the hell am I supposed to be strong for him when I can’t do it for myself?”

“Dirk, you are the strongest person I know. You’ll be fine.”

“Jake. I won’t. I can’t do this. I can the fuck not. I’m afraid that if I meet him I’ll spontaneously need to vomit so much I’ll die of dehydration. Jake, he’s terrified of smuppets and I sew them for a living. I put all of them in the crawlspace for a reason. He’s almost guaranteed to be alienated by my ironic bullcrap. Just, please Jake. Do this for me.”

“Dirk, I… what do you want me to do? Just pretend to be his brother while you, bearing an enormous resemblance, just happen to be dating me!?” It is here you know that you’ve won.

“I have that covered. Just bring him home, let him pick anywhere he wants to sleep, and if he hugs the fuck out of you, hug right back.”

“Dirk, do you expect us both to sleep on the couch?”

“If he wants the bed, I’ll sleep on the floor or crawlspace. It used to be his bed anyway”

“Dirk…”

“Please, do this for me. I have it all worked out and there is no way this can get fucked up.” You leave out the ‘almost’ which is supposed to precede the ‘no way’.

“How long do you plan on prevaricating?”

“Not long. I just want him to readjust first. He needs a brother that can keep his shit together, and if you hate him, I’m sure you can keep yourself from breaking down like a lactating maple tree.”

“A what?”

“A sap.”

“Oh… well, what are you planning? He can’t very well see you if you plan on keeping your familial connections surreptitious.”

“Sure he can. I’ll take care of that, I got it covered.”

He crosses his arms. “Dirk, you’re not telling me something.”

“I promise you it’s no big deal.”

He eyes you suspiciously. “And what if it is?”

“I promise you it’s not.”

Something about his expression tells you he doesn’t buy it. “Fine, but I don’t want you to suddenly disappear on me for a week and leave me alone with him.”

“I didn’t plan to.”

“Then how do you-“

“Jake, like I said, there’s no way this can get fucked up. Let’s just say I have planned for all possible contingencies and will be taking steps to prevent all possible fuck-ups.” And by all possible, you mean most.

He eyes you up and down, and you’ve never been this nervous because of Jake since the beginning of your relationship. If he says no, my god if he says no…

“I will not forget this debt.”

You internally sigh relief. A great weight has been lifted from your shoulders. You give him one of your rare smiles, and a peck on the lips.

“I love you.”

“I regret it already.”

“After you finish up the paperwork, go home without me. I have a few errands to run. I’ll walk home.”

“Are you sure? It’s a bit distant from where we live.”

“I am positive Jake. It’s all part of the plan.”

“Well… if you say so.”

You flip through the paperwork hastily, signing everything you find before waving goodbye as you leave Skaia mental hospital. You pull out your phone and look for the nearest hair salon. Just because you were gay (though you really hate such labels) didn’t mean you knew what you were doing when it came to hair.

A few minutes of walking and $75 later and you find yourself in some random salon getting your hair dyed. You had picked out an inconspicuous brunette, just short of black. You hope Jake likes it. He probably won’t. You sign internally. It’s definitely worth it to help transition your brother into your life without absolutely destroying his view of you. You just need him to get to know you before you drop the fact that you’re his brother on him. If he doesn’t think you’re his brother, you know you can keep it together and act normal, and by the time the hair dye runs out, everything should be reacclimated enough to make the fact that you’re his brother make no difference. You curse your lack of confidence, but hey, you already hatched an underhanded scheme to compensate.

Just as you’re exiting the salon, you receive a call from a Jake.

“Dirk, this is all kinds of awkward. What am I supposed to do?”

“Why don’t you play a video game with him or something? Act like a brother. Force yourself to hug him and say a few words like ‘I missed you.’”

“You want me to lie to him?”

“Isn’t that what we’re already doing?”

“Just… hurry home. It’s getting dark” 

“I’m already on my way there.”

You end the call and pull out your headphones. You need something to relax you, so you play something both calming and ironic as all hell.

“ _PON PON dashite shimaeba ii no_  
 _zenzen shinai no tsumaranai desho_  
 _HEADPHONE kakete RIZUMU ni nosete_  
 _WEI WEI akete atashi no michi wo”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PON PON WEI WEI WEI  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yzC4hFK5P3g


	7. Weary Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sad mopey rocks everywhere

You end the call and take a deep, forlorn sigh. This wasn’t going to be easy. You’ve started hating Dave for an entirely separate reason; you think you should just forgive him. As he is now, there’s really nothing for him to apologize for, and even if he did remember, it’s not as if he can suddenly be held accountable. Alternatively, you think it’s an insult to Jade’s memory to forgive her murderer without so much as a half-hearted attempt at recompense. It makes you feel conflicted and it was starting to give you a headache. You just want to go home, stay in your room all day and sleep.

Oh wait. You can’t do that right now because _someone_ had decided to perpetuate a lie requiring you to move in with him.

Hold on a second. That’s what this is all about isn’t it!? He’s manipulating you again, isn’t he? Of course! How could you miss it? He even said Dave would be seeing him! How can he hide who he is with so much family resemblance? There’s no way Dirk would come up with such a half-baked plan. He’s probably going to wait for Dave to go to sleep to come home and avoid him completely until you move in. He could’ve just asked if he wanted to live together. What, is your house not good enough? At least it has more than a single room! As soon as he’s getting home, you’re giving him a piece of your mind! (And you’re sure it won’t devolve into sex this time since Dave’s around.)

Speaking of Dave, he’s still out there waiting for you. You ultimately decide that if Dave doesn’t remember, there’s nothing to forgive him or make him apologize for, so there’s nothing to be done _yet_. Instead you have to participate in this convoluted charade Dirk lassoed you into and act _brotherly_ , if not for any other reason than because you don’t want to be the one to tell him you’re not his brother.

You return the phone to your pocket and open the door. You hear sounds coming from the living room, so that’s a good thing. If he’s not on tenterhooks waiting for you, you think you can afford a trip to the bathroom.

After relieving yourself, you find yourself just staring into the mirror while washing your hands. You keep thinking about all the movies you’ve seen. Being friendly with Dave is like dancing on Jade’s grave while you know enough about movies that you would be the cause of the central problem if you were sour to him all the time. Factoring in Dirk, you’d be the bad guy, straining your own relationship over a grudge against someone who had no control over the transgression. It’s a frustrating dilemma.

You banish those thoughts to the depths of She’ol. You’re just going to end up moping around all day if you keep this up.

Exiting the bathroom and rounding the corner, you find Dave playing one of Dirk’s video games. You don’t recall ever seeing this one before, but it appears to be remarkably shitty.

You turn to the kitchen to see if you can prepare lunch for you two. “Anything you’d like to eat?”

You hear the game pausing and some shuffling. You realize just then that you didn’t give him permission to touch Dirk’s games. “Um… what do we got?”

Opening the fridge, you suddenly remember you’re in Dirk’s house. “Dirk doesn’t really stock up on much. We have an unhealthy amount of orange soda and very little that isn’t junk food. How’s a sandwich sound?”

“I’ll take some of that.”

4 slices of bread later, you’re walking over to Dave holding a plate with his sandwich on it in one hand and your own sandwich in the other. Never mind the fact that you still have a grudge against him, when it comes to being a gentleman, Jake English is simply the best there is.

You sit down next to him on the couch, putting his sandwich between you two and taking a bite out of your own. You now notice that the game is much shittier than you initially calculated and seems to be in it of itself just a Doritos advertisement. You know Dirk keeps a wide selection of games on hand, so you can’t fathom why he went for this one.

After successfully doing some sort of trick involving numbers exceeding a thousand and numerous prefixes, he collects the final Dorito chip, thus completing the map. He sets the controller aside as the game returns to a menu and picks up the sandwich, taking a bite of it. He doesn’t continue the game. He just sits there looking back and forth between the screen and your direction, as if expecting you to say something. You thought it was awkward before. Now it’s cinema levels of awkwardness. It suddenly becomes a very real possibility that you are going to have to be the one to tell Dave you’re not his brother because eating in silence like this is really unpleasant.

You’re a better liar than this. Think! What would a brother tell their brother in a situation like this?

“I missed you.” Shit that was terrible.

You expected him to continue this horrible conversation in a similar level of awkwardness. You definitely did not expect him to put down the sandwich, move the plate aside and hug you. You didn’t expect him to cry quietly into your shoulder and you didn’t expect him to do it for so long. But most of all, you didn’t expect yourself to wrap your arms around him with so much appetence and cry with him. You don’t consider your emotions delicate. You never once shed a single tear watching any of your movies, but dammit, you were just so _sad_. You missed Jade. You missed her so much that it just filled you with _emotion_ , and that emotion was strong and _negative_. In your arms was the object of your hatred, and all you wanted to do was hug him and make all the problems go away. You sicken yourself, and you sicken yourself for being sickened by yourself for such a dumb reason. ‘ _It’s a vicious cycle_ ’ your coherent thoughts provide. ‘ _Shut the fuck up_ ’ you answer to yourself in return.

Oh look, you thought about it again. What did you say was going to happen if you did? You were going to mope around all day or something?

Yep, that’s exactly what you did for the next several minutes with Dave.

You’re sitting on the couch with him still nestled against your chest, your chin on his head and arms around each other. You’ve both stopped crying and manned up for once, and now you’re just sitting together having silent bro snuggles as you think about your respective lives. You eventually hear the door unlock and when you turn your head to see Dirk in the doorway you think you have a complete and total mental shutdown because something is oh so very wrong with this picture. You immediately forget all about reprimanding Dirk because it seems he was being genuine about his Dave problems.

Standing before you with brunette hair and anime shades, Dirk Strider.

What the fuck.

No.

Just.

What.

The.

Fuck.

“You Dirk?”

Dirk seems to stiffen at Dave’s question.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“What for?”

“Letting me stay here and everything.”

“Are you kidding me?” Dirk strolls over to Dave and picks him up off of the couch and the ground in one of the most affectionate hugs you’ve ever seen.

“You’re family. Thank me when I let you win at that game.”

Dirk puts Dave down and vaguely gestures to the television that was left abandoned during your maple tree lactation session before grabbing another controller. Dave grabs the one next to his abandoned sandwich and starts up a multiplayer match. You have lost all ability to what. Your what has spilled all over the floor and is now leaking out of the front door and through every other apartment in the building.

Watching them play, you are sure that if any human were to attempt any of these stunts they would invariably be disfigured beyond recognition. When it comes to an end, both Dave and Dirk are wearing a slight smirk on their faces. Dave had won, barely. You don’t think Dirk was sabotaging himself, but you wouldn’t call yourself an expert on this. In fact, you couldn’t say truthfully that you were paying much attention to the game at all. You were mostly just staring at Dirk and his hair.

“Thanks.”

“What, no gloating like usual?”

“You knew me?”

“We all knew each other. We were like two conjoined groups of 4; all of my friends seemed to have younger siblings that were friends with you, and all of them were friends with each other.”

“Who were they?”

“Me, Jake here, Roxy, Jane, and our younger siblings you, Rose, and John.”

“Didn’t you say both groups had 4 people in it?”

“Yeah… My sister Jade died a while ago.”

Ok you’ve had enough of this. You stand up and leave silently, returning to Dirk’s room. You’ll lose your shit all over Dirk and his new hair later. Right now you’re just going to mope because the several minutes with Dave wasn’t enough. Before you realize it, you’re on Dirk’s bed, sleeping like a sad, mopey rock.

When you wake, it’s still dark and Dave’s standing over you, gently shaking your shoulder.

“Jake. Jake. Jake.”

“Mmm?” You wipe the sleep out of your eyes.

“Do you mind if I sleep with you?”

You suddenly feel a lot more awake than you did half a second ago.

“Uh… sure.” You’re too tired to deal with Dirk or the lie you told to Dave, so you just move over. It can’t be that awkward, right?

Your eyes closed, you hear Dave place his shades on the desk and shuffle under the covers next to you. About 10 seconds later he moves in closer, draping an arm around you and burying his face into your chest. You thought it unfitting of a brother not to reciprocate, so you do the same with your arm. It takes you about 20 more seconds to realize you’re effectively snuggling with the person you hate most in the world.

The worst part is that you’re perfectly ok with it.


	8. Blazing Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because 'like magic' is too good to be true.

There are no words to describe how angry you are right now.

You don’t know why you’re angry. You don’t know why you’re running. It’s nothing but black, black, black. If you couldn’t hear your own footsteps and feel the ground beneath you, you wouldn’t be sure there was any form to any of this.

“Dave, wait!”

You ignore him. (Who?) You have things to do in that direction. You see nothing but you’re just so _angry_. You really want to run that way, and by want, you mean that if you were to stop running, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from screaming in anguish because _god damn it you need to go that way_.

“Dave! Stop!”

There’s a hand on your shoulder. Why is there a hand on your shoulder? Get it the fuck off. You shrug it off your shoulder and take a larger dash. It returns less than 3 steps and 2 seconds later.

“Please Dave, don’t do this!”

You’ve had enough of this asshole touching you. It’s annoying. You smack the hand off your shoulder with more force than strictly necessary and pick up your pace even further. You’re already at the point of sprinting.

“Dave, please!”

Fuck this guy. You spin around to see fucking John looking back with his concerned-as-fuck eyes that really piss you off more than they should. Fuck him. You bring your right hand up (oh hey, you’re holding a shitty sword, when did that happen?) and bring it down across diagonally across him, slicing across his abdomen from his shoulder to the side of his stomach. He screams a horrified wail, clutching at the wound already cascading blood like a waterfall. The sound is the most beautiful melody you’ve ever heard in your entire life. It’s like your theme song. You love it from the bottom of your heart and you don’t think you could live with yourself if you were to just turn around and continue on your way. Whatever’s that way can wait just a moment. You’re not done with John.

You tackle him to the ground, easily pushing him down and straddle him. The look of utter terror in his eyes is just so delicious you think you’re going to contract diabetes. You reward him for the sheer loveliness of it all with a hard punch to the face. You then immediately raise your blade and plunge it through his chest, effectively impaling him. Much to your delight, he screams. You swear you could listen to that scream all day long. It almost saddens you that you’re not recording an mp3 for this. Almost. You’re too enraptured by just how gorgeous his pain is to care, too amazed by the feeling of your blade slicing through his flesh. You want to feel that consistency again. You want to feel how it feels to push a blade through someone’s body, because it felt pretty damn profound the first time. You raise your blade and do it again. And again. And again. A smile creeps onto your face. You’re not one to smile often, but that’s definitely not stopping you from smiling harder than the Joker. This is the most fun you’ve had since forever. You wish you could take a picture for posterity: _me and my bro john_. It’d be hilarious levels of ironic if you weren’t so damn sincere about loving this kid.

“Dave…”

Tears are streaming down his face. You punch him in the face once again.

“Shut up.”

You raise your blade from the last wound. Already his eyes seem slightly glazed over, his body trembling. You place the blade into his mouth, slowly. He opens his mouth weakly as not to get cut but his tears seem to pick up the pace. You love it. The anticipation of what’s to come is just beautiful. He can’t even beg without cutting his tongue.

“Beg for your life.”

The look on his face is so panoramic you think it’s borderline criminal not having a camera at this moment. It’s vulnerable and scared and just so utterly perfect.

“Lease aye.” He pauses to take a deep, shuddering breath. “Lease own kill ee.”

Watching him try to talk with an open mouth is just hilarious. You’re almost tempted to keep him alive to force him to try to dance in the state he’s in. But no; you’ve got to get back to running in the other direction. You lift the blade up, ready to bring it down with enough force to end his life.

NO.

FUCK.

You drop the blade to the side and hold your head in your hands, fighting off a terrible headache.

FUCKING SHIT.

WHAT THE FUCK.

“Dave.”

Your face is pressed against John’s bloody chest and you swear your head is about to explode.

“Dave!”

John seems to be trying to speak to you. Fuck him, you’re going to freak the fuck out right here and now because _what the fuck is going on here_ and why is there blood everywhere?

“Dave! Breathe!”

That’s when you wake up.

Shit has no time to hit the fan. Shit does an acrobatic fucking pirouette off the fan and ollies outie through a fenestrated wall and into a new dimension. The hook once again breaks into hysterics, chastising the shit for leaving it *yet again* when the hook knows shit is just going to come back soon enough apologizing. The hook has been through this before. The hook knows where this road leads.

Shut the fuck up you psychotic asshole there’s blood everywhere.

You stare at your hands with your unprotected eyes. It’s covered in blood. You’re hyperventilating and this is the scariest moment of your life. You don’t want to die. You don’t want to hurt anyone.

Jake has his arms around you with Dirk hovering around you two awkwardly, as if unsure what to do. You’re just staring at your hands covered in blood. You don’t even know whose blood it is, but Jake’s shirt is covered in it and you’re freaking out, not entirely on the inside.

“Dave, calm down.” Dirk’s voice is firm, comforting and you realize there are tears in your eyes. You try to wipe them away on your sleeves - still hospital white, and stop staring at your hands long enough to grip your own shoulders and focus on breathing. Jake rubs soothing circles into your back as you do your best to calm the fuck down. God damn it the tears won’t stop. Why won’t they stop?

Eventually you’ve relaxed enough that the only sound you make is intermittent sniffles. Dirk has sat down next to you on the bed and Jake has removed one arm.

“What happened?”

They both make a face. Dirk gestures to the floor where you see a bloody kitchen knife lying on the ground.

“It appears you had a fit of sleepwalking in your nightmares old chum. Are you alright? You seem to have cut yourself pretty badly.”

No you’re not alright. What the fuck were you going to do with a god damn knife? You’re fucking mortified. You want to crawl into a hole and die, but you can’t so you opt for the next best thing.

“I gotta take a shower.”

You abscond the fuck out of that place and straight into the bathroom where HOLY FUCKING SHIT.

Oh. It’s just you, covered in blood all over your shirt and right hand along with your demonic red eyes. Jesus Christ you can’t take this much Red. You rip off your clothes, hop in and turn the water on just a little hotter than really fucking hot. You sit yourself down and just start wiping the blood away.

Fuck.

Why won’t it come off.

Need more soap on that bitch.

More soap.

More damn it.

 _More_.

This water isn’t hot enough. It’s not even scalding.

You just feel so disgusting.

Why is there so much light in this god damn shower?

About an hour later you finally step out of the shower, absolutely positive you are spotless. You look down to your white hospital clothes, now stained in blood and frown.  
You hear a knock from the other side of the door. “Hey Dave, you done?”

“Yeah.”

“Put on a towel and open the door, I have some clothes for you."

You hastily do as he says, fastening a towel around your waist and opening the door to find Dirk with a small stack of folded clothes - a white shirt with red sleeves and a broken record symbol in the center along with a pair of black skinny jeans. You take them and he walks out. You close the door, put it on, leaving the blood-stained rags on the ground and head back to the only room in the apartment to retrieve your shades. The red was kind of making you sick, but you feel just a little bit more normal in this outfit. Normal…

You can’t escape the feeling that it’s all lies. It just feels so unnatural to you, living like this. You try to douse the feeling by entering the living room, wherein Dirk immediately gets up off the couch and begins fretting over you like a worried mother. Last night he gave off a vaguely cool-kid air about him, but it doesn’t seem to match up with how he’s acting now. Maybe he’s imagining that him and Jake adopted a child. You’re not sure what to feel about that.

“You ok bro? Let me see that.” He takes your hand before you can even begin to protest and starts scrutinizing it.

“…It’s shallower than I thought.”

“You worry too much.”

“You ok?”

“Just fine.” You take a deep breath and join him back on the couch. Jake’s in the kitchen making some sort of food that you can’t place on the smell alone. You take a deep breath. You just can’t relax here. You know you can trust these two, but you just don’t know them at all. It feels weird and awkward. You suppose you didn’t really care yesterday, but you were just fine yesterday. You had a weird dream before, but now you get a nightmare, and during that nightmare you somehow managed to get your hands on a knife. That’s just really unsettling. Screw the nightmare, your new worst fear is sleep. You can picture it now; you go to sleep one day and wake up the next with Dirk and Jake dead and a bloody knife in your hands. Back to the asylum for you, or worse, jail.

“Hey.”

You really like this Dirk fella. He always knows how to make you stop hating your situation for a moment. You turn to face him.

“So you said you wanted to talk to your friends today?”

You remember that. He asked if you wanted to talk to them but you instead answered tomorrow. You wished you’d had talked to them then and there because you feel extra shitty today, but you figure it’s going to happen sooner or later and waiting isn’t going to bring you anything.

“Yeah. I- I do.”

He gets up, moving toward the computer and you follow him. He opens up a program vaguely nostalgic called Pesterchum and logs into your account ‘turntechGodhead’. It really makes you think about who you used to be.

You look among your contacts. There are 7 contacts, 3 of which are offline, 3 of which are idle, and only one of which is online. You decide to pester them and hope to god you can regain some semblance of memories.

“That’s Rose. She’s technically your sister.”

“I have a sister?”

“In terms of blood, yes, though she’s kind of more like a cousin.”

You’re not sure what to expect from Rose. Maybe she’s like Jake.

You send her a message.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] \-- 

TG: sup  
TT: Well if it isn’t the rare and elusive Dave Strider making his comeback from beyond sanity itself to haunt me for the rest of eternity.  
TG: what  
TT: Dirk, if you don’t mind, I’m a bit busy. Can we cut the charades and skip right to the part where you ask me a question of *indeterminable* nature so I can tell you it is indeed just paranoia plaguing you?

You see another name on your chumroll go from idle to online.

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] \--

TT: Rose knock your shit off Dave is really here with me and he can’t remember jack shit.  
TT: Shape your shit up right this god damn instant before I blow a fucking gasket. This is levels of stress-inducing seriousness that make a heart attack look like Ronald McDonald in a dress tangoing with Big Bird in a crowded subway.  
TT: Judging by your inherent urgency and significant deficit in your John aspect, is it safe to say this isn’t an ironic gambit?  
TT: Rose, there is no room for error here.  
TT: Perhaps you’d like to explain to me why you chose not to tell me in advance then?  
TT: How long has he been out? Did it ever occur to you this was valuable information?  
TT: He’s only been out since yesterday. I wanted to keep John out of the picture for as long as possible.  
TT: Oh?  
TT: Like I said, no room for error here.  
TT: John is a fucking wildcard.  
TT: I am perfectly capable of keeping a secret you know.  
TT: Doesn’t matter. He’d just get pissed for being the last to know.  
TT: Aggravating wildcards is not a smart course of action when you have no room for error. Dave decided today would be as good a day as any to meet his old friends again.  
TT: Telling you all at the same time means he has nothing to complain about, so go ahead and tell him. It must be at the top of your list of things to do.  
TT: If you insist.  
TT: One more thing.  
TT: He thinks Jake is his brother.  
TT: Go along with it.  
TT: Dirk?  
TT: Just do it Lalonde.  
TT: Hold your questions for later, this is serious shit.  
TT: Now go make my brother feel like he isn’t going to go crazy again.  
TT: We’ve had him for one night and already he’s having nightmares.  
TT: I’m worried it’s full-on night terrors.  
TT: I’ll see what I can do.

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] \--

TG: i guess thats what youd expect from someone in your situation  
TG: i understand  
TG: ...  
TT: Sorry Dave, how are you?  
TG: pretty fucking terrible if im being honest  
TT: I noticed.  
TG: what  
TT: You’re lacking your usual exuberance.  
TT: Normally you’d have made around three times the amount of text by now.  
TG: that sounds lame  
TG: was i really a nerd before  
TG: i cant tell  
TT: You were the king of the lame nerds.  
TT: The metaphorical god of them. You were recognized internationally as a force to be reckoned with.  
TG: what  
TT: I believe I still have that old pesterlog.  
TT: "TG: seriously  
TG: dudes be worshipping me left and right  
TG: I cant hardly walk down the street without stepping over torsos of the prostrate  
TT: Navigating the urban landscape I'm sure is difficult enough without an obstacle course of deferential flesh and skyward asses.  
TT: Perhaps adapting the art of parkour to your unique environment would help?  
TG: yeah!  
TG: i mean damn  
TG: like theres this scruffy little shit at my feet  
TG: an orphan or something i dont know  
TG: face flush on the pavement  
TG: im like dude you listening for a stampede of buffalo or something?  
TG: he braves a look at me then gives my shoe a little kiss and scurries the fuck off  
TT: Heavy is the crown.  
TG: yeah  
TG: not kicking oliver twist in the fucking face every day is my gift to the world i guess  
TT: Breathtaking magnanimity!  
TG: among other things  
TG: i just give and fucking give  
TT: Indeed, nary a jewel tumbles from your wishbox of daily exploits which I imagine does not sparkle."  
TG: well shit  
TT: Shit indeed.  
TG: so i used to be fucking awesome  
TT: The greatest artists of ye olde renaissance would clamber for a chance to immortalize your magnificence.  
TT: Not a day goes by that the entire human race does not stop and collectively swoon at your sheer radiance.  
TG: so you’ve heard the shit about me right  
TT: Would this particular fecal parcel regard your memory?  
TG: yea  
TG: sorry i dont remember jack shit about you  
TT: You have nothing to apologize for.  
TT: I was made quite aware of the situation by Dirk.  
TG: yeah  
TG: dirk is the fucking shit  
TT: Take your time readjusting.  
TT: I’ll be here if you need anything.  
TT: In the meantime, I’ll alert John.  
TG: who?  
TT: He was your best friend.

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--

Well that was emotionally draining, and that was barely a complete conversation. You get up off the computer to see what Jake made.

Tacos.

Fuck yes.


	9. Blue Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are all stunned by this shocking revelation.

You sat in-between Dave and Jake on the couch, quietly eating a taco with the rest of them and watching whatever was on TV, or at least pretending to. You were lost in thought about the conversation between Rose and Dave. Dave isn’t like himself. You thought maybe he was just being shy what with the new surroundings, but even if he is he’s still changed a hell of a lot. At the very least, he seems to like you, so at least you don’t have that to worry about for now. What you _do_ have to worry about is that now John’s on his way. You know that kid. Aside from Rose and Jade, Dave’s pretty much the only major friend he had. He visited Dave almost as much as you, which was about every other week, though it is possible he’s been visiting him even more than that. According to Jane, he’s gotten more and more antisocial ever since the incident, so you assume he’s still trying desperately to fill the void in his empty life with Dave since Rose tells you he’s been speaking to her less and less. You have no doubts he’s driving furiously across the state at this very moment just to see Dave, and then he’s going to demand why he wasn’t alerted the moment you got that first phone call. You’ll then have to juggle the whole ‘Jake-is-Dave’s-brother-and-I’m-suddenly-brunette’ issue, and to top it all off, you’re going to have to handle whatever Dave’s reaction to it is and stop John’s reaction to that if it’s stupid, and that furthermore Dave will be ok with whatever that reaction is. You almost feel bad for letting John see Dave, but you know that John won’t accept no for an answer at this point.

Roughly 7 hours of 3-way bro bonding later, you hear the doorbell ring and you curse under your breath before getting up and hesitantly opening the door, Jake and Dave following behind. Surprise, surprise, it’s John. We are all stunned by this shocking revelation. He’s wearing a blue long-sleeve shirt (which makes you very suspicious) and jeans. His hair is even messier than usual and he looks like he’s just finished climbing a mountain. Before you even say a word to the guy he starts shouting.

“DAAAAAAAAVE!!!!!!!!”

He rushes past you and literally tackles Dave to the ground in one of the most affectionate hugs you’ve ever seen. Dave looks terrified, his hands over his face as if to block incoming blows to the head. You can’t tolerate this shit. You flash step to their side and kick John in his stomach. He rolls off, clutching it in agony. You idly wonder for a moment if you kicked him too hard, but you’re pretty sure you didn’t kick hard enough to break anything.

“What the hell Dirk?” John’s voice is rough and strained. Judging by his eyes widening, ending his perpetual squint of pain, he must’ve noticed your new hair. Fucking great.

“How much did Rose tell you?”

“I- that Dave’s ok now, why?”

“Come ‘ere.”

You grab him by the arm and drag him to the bedroom. Once there, you lock the door behind you and take a deep breath.

“What is it Dirk? I miss Dave! Also, what’s with the hair?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, as if it will give you some semblance of patience.

“Shut up you ignorant asshole.”

Well that has him quiet.

“Look. Dave might have regained his sanity somehow, but he still doesn’t remember jack shit. What happened just now was a complete and total stranger tackling him and him fearing for his life.”

“He doesn’t remember any of us?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh… sorry…” The look of dejection on his face is probably visible from Pluto.

“Now, to be sure he doesn’t get traumatized or something, we’re having him believe Jake is his brother.”

“Wha- you’re lying to him!?”

“Only until the hair dye wears off.”

“Why!?”

You take a gamble and grab his hand, extending it out and pulling up the sleeve on his arm. Just as you thought, cuts. Scars littered his arm, some noticeably newer than others, some looking like they could’ve been from earlier today. John’s face is one of sheer unadulterated horror as he yanks his arm out of your hands, pushing the sleeve back down as soon as he does.

“I think you’d know why.”

“Fine! Whatever! Just don’t tell anyone and I’ll go along with it. Rose is already suspicious and I can barely talk to her anymore, I can only imagine how it’ll be if Jane finds out…”

“Your secret’s safe with me if mine is with you.”

“Deal.”

He turns to leave before you can even respond, not that you were going to anyway.

You and John walk back to the living room to find…

…

…

…

You think your soul might’ve just broke.

You could swear there was a sound of something shattering at that very moment. Maybe it was John’s heart? It’s not like you know for sure, but you think there’s a pretty good chance that he’s gay for Dave. Maybe it was your heart? A broken heart isn’t usually how you roll, but whatever.

Maybe it’s just a misunderstanding? But then why are his eyes closed like that? Seriously, just what the flying fuck is going on here? Isn’t this incestuous?

Standing with his back against the kitchen counter is Jake. In front of him is Dave. They’re kissing.

In unison with John, you can’t help but say “what the fuck.”


	10. Crossed Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright boys and girls, it's time to panic like deranged beasts.

You watch as Dirk drags John away, completely ignoring his resistance and shuts the door behind him. You are absolutely stunned by the shocking development that is your cousin John. Seriously, you expected better from him. It is very ungentlemanly to just tackle people like that.

Redirecting your attention to the quivering mess on the floor, Dave still has his arms covering his face. What’s gotten into him? You stoop down next to him, a bit unsure what to do.

“Are you alright love?”

He pushes himself up and pulls you into a hug, catching you off-guard. His shades press into your shoulder and you can’t imagine it’s comfortable against his face. He’s absolutely silent, but you think he may be crying.

“I remember him.”

His voice is shaky and uncertain. You’re not sure what to think of all this.

“John. He was in my dream.”

“Your nightmare?”

“Yea. I just… I had a sword and… and I just…” His sentence devolves into barely audible sobs and you just hold him tighter.

“Jake.”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

Without thinking too much about it, you answer “I love you too.” When what you just said catches up with your rational thinking, you realize you aren’t lying, but you assure yourself you mean it in a completely platonic and familial way and do your best to ignore the nagging in the back of your mind reminding you who Jade’s killer was.

You love Dave. Maybe it’s just an onslaught of pity, but you can’t bring yourself to be angry with him. You pull Dave’s face away and give him a chaste kiss on the lips before pulling him back in to hug him.

Wait a minute…

Hold the fucking phone…

What… uh…

Dave has gone stiff in your arms.

**YOU FUCKED UP.**

You scramble away from Dave hurrying to the kitchen to chop onions or something, anything but acknowledge that was you just did just happened. Nope. The last few seconds were filled with nothing but brotherly bonding in a completely platonic way. Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope. You went shopping earlier for some real food and now John’s here. When it comes to being a gentleman, you are simply the best there is, and you think it would be gentlemanly of you to make some food for your guest. You have no onions. Why don’t you have bloody onions? You could have sworn you bought some. Where are the onions, where are the onions…

“Jake?”

WHERE ARE THE ONIONS. WHERE ARE THE GOD DAMN ONIONS.

“Jake.”

Dave is behind you, pulling you from your frantic onion search and you face him. Shit, you’re going to have to acknowledge this, aren’t you? **FUCK!**

You start to open your mouth to babble out something in a feeble attempt at changing the subject, perhaps cascading into a poor excuse and an apology, but he cuts you off as he puts his mouth on yours.

Your hands instantly shoot up to rest on his shoulders, to push him away, but you don’t. You don’t. WHY DON’T YOU YOU ARE SUCH AN IDIOT.

After a few moments, a mere few seconds of much more hesitation than you are willing to admit, you push him away. You are in a relationship with Dirk for crying out loud! This is far from gentlemanly!

Not a moment more, like a reverberation of your sins, you hear them.

“What the fuck.”

You look up over Dave’s shoulder and find John and Dirk standing there, staring. John looks completely and utterly lost, like he can neither believe what he’s seeing nor understand it. Dirk has a look of… betrayal? It’s a lot more facial emotion than he has normally and it hurts. You feel awful, but even more so, you are panicking. You’re not sure why, but you just can’t take this anymore. You decide the most prudent course of action to take now would be to have a mental breakdown and get the fuck out of here.

You run the fuck out of there, covering your face and the subsequent tears that decide now would be the time to make their debut. You try to stifle your not entirely gentlemanly emotions as you run down the stairs, skipping the elevator altogether. God you just fucked up your relationship in so many ways on so many levels you don’t know what to do with yourself. You love Dirk, you do! What happened with Dave was nothing but an accident! A lapse in judgment! It’s hard to focus when someone has their lips on yours!

A nagging voice in your head tells you you’re just rationalizing your transgressions and you know that it’s right beyond a shadow of a doubt but you definitely aren’t going to stop pretending. As far as you are concerned, Dirk is the only person you love and Dave is just his brother. Yep, you’re definitely gonna roll with that.

Finally managing to restrain your tears for the general public’s viewing pleasure, you exit the building and drag yourself to the nearest bus stop and catch a bus to Roxy’s. You need to talk to someone and you know better than to throw your relationship problems onto Jane after you found out she had feelings for you. The wait for the bus and the ride itself were both long and unpleasant but uneventful. You take such time to think about how badly you’ve fucked up.

First of all, you practically cheated on your boyfriend in front of him with the brother he was overprotective enough to dye his hair for. It was just a kiss, but he’s probably furious right now, and honestly, you can’t blame him. He has every right to be.

Second, you can’t imagine what’s going through Dave’s mind right now. Self-loathing inducing incest aside, he just kissed Dirk’s boyfriend, and you can’t imagine how badly you screwed up _their_ relationship. You hope it’s salvageable. Hell, you’d gladly accept them both directing their anger at you. At least then the damage you cause is minimal. Surely Dave has other reasons to hate you, right? After all, you did lie about being his brother. Oh wait…

Third, you put Dirk’s entire scheme in jeopardy. While you never approved of it to begin with, the truth being revealed to Dave under these circumstances will probably ruin all trust he has for both you and Dirk. If you fuck up Dirk’s relationship with Dave, it’d only be logical for him to keep that grudge against you. It wouldn’t make much sense if he didn’t. _Gosh_ , you’re such a terrible person.

When you finally arrive at your destination, you get off the bus and walk to the Lalonde residence, steeling yourself for the psychological torture that will surely ensue, both by just talking about it and from talking about it with Roxy’s younger sister, who is the greatest psychologist/mind rapist you know.

You ring the doorbell and wait anxiously.

When the door finally opens, you find Roxy standing in the doorway, a martini glass already in hand and a smile plastered on her face.

“Hey Jakey! What brings you to ye olde Lalonde residence?” You can hear the slur to her words. She must be fairly intoxicated already.

“I… well, it’s about Dirk and Dave…”

“Jakey, you still poutin’ ‘bout yo wittle sister?”

“Roxy, no, I-“

“Jakey, I knows it was sad and all, but you gotta move on! You can’t keep locking yoself up and ignoring Johny every year!”

“Roxy, no, this isn’t about that, it’s about Dave. He’s out of the hospital and-“

“Davey boy’s out of the hospital!? Oh my flippin’ gosh, I need to tell Rosy…”

“ROXY, I JUST KISSED DAVE IN FRONT OF DIRK!”

Her eyes go wide and her smile fades.

“Wat.”

“And John saw the whole thing.”

After just standing there and blinking repeatedly for a good 5 seconds, she clears her throat loudly and awkwardly before stepping aside.

“Come on in.”


	11. Starry Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SETTLE IT IN SMASH.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super Smash Bros. Brawl was released in 2008, the incident occurred in 2009, and this story takes place in 2014.

You don’t know what you’re doing.

You’re panicking is what.

You still don’t know why you’re turning.

It’s because you’re unarmed.

You don’t know why you pick up the knife.

It’s because you’re going to use it.

You don’t know what you’re going to use it for.

You’re going to use it to stab something.

You don’t know what you’re going to stab with it.

The knife flies out of your hands before you can formulate a half-coherent question with your staggered mind.

You’re on the ground and Dirk is on top of you, holding both of your hands down by the wrists.

You blink behind your shades. Your thoughts are lagging behind ever so oddly. What were you just doing? Why do you feel so stupid all of a sudden? It’s not like you’re waking up with amnesia again, although it is a comparable sensation.

“Dave.”

Ok, so you picked up a knife and…

“Dave!”

You guess you intended to do something with it?

“Dave, answer me damn it!”

What in the hell were you going to do with a knife? Chop onions or something?

“DAVE!”

Breaking your reverie, you hear a voice that invokes just a hint of nostalgia. Something familiar you just don’t quite remember. You look over to see John standing over you and Dirk with a look of desperation on his face. He’s the one that said it. You suppose Dirk said those other things, which kind of makes you feel bad that you basically ignored him without even realizing it…

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, I’m still chomping on air here.” You don’t even realize how snarky you sound until a moment after you finish saying it. You regret nothing.

“Dave!” He seems to want to hug you or something but Dirk beats him to the punch, leaving him to dejectedly wait his turn. The fact that Dirk is straddling you as he does so leaves you feeling a bit awkward about the whole situation, but at this point you’re just glad the fact that you kissed Jake is swept under the rug. It’s not something you really want to talk about anytime soon.

“Don’t scare me like that.”

This comes from Dirk, the unmovable pillar of stoicism. You did this. Shit. You stepped on a drama land mine again, didn’t you? Flung your drama entrails into the air and splattered them all over him in one grotesque move. Was it the knife?

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Dirk picks you up (despite your weak protests) and puts you on the couch. John follows like a loyal dog and hugs you (much too tightly) the moment Dirk backs away.

“Dave! I missed you so much!”

How are you supposed to even respond to this? Are you supposed to hug him back? You can’t even say it’s nice to see him again since even now all you can think of is the image of you slashing him with a shitty katana.

Shit, was that what the knife was for? That entire shebang was a psychotic episode, wasn’t it? Shit. You’d be fine with forgetting all about this, but you’re not going to, are you?

“Uh… yeah, sure. John is it?"

He pulls back and you just barely see him wince subtly, but he quickly returns to his ridiculous smile. Smiling that hard looks painful.

“Yeah! So… you don’t remember anything?”

“No. Not really.” The only reason you say ‘not really’ is because you’re not sure if the dreams are memories or not. There was that first extremely vague dream with Jake molesting a koala and the 2nd with you slashing John across the chest. You see no connection to this whatsoever.

“That’s ok! I’ll help you get it back!”

You think that’s really unnecessary and highly unlikely to do any good.

“Uh… thanks.”

“It’s nothing! Really, you were my best friend! It’s the least I could do!”

He sounds so jovial it’s ridiculous. You kind of wish he wasn’t. You know you’re just going to let down his expectations of your reunion.

Unsure of what to do now, you sit there awkwardly. This does nothing to deter John, since he fills the silence moments later with a proposition you feel vaguely reminiscent.

“So, you wanna play some Super Smash Bros.?”

You have no fucking clue what the hell that is and to be honest, it sounds kind of stupid.

“Sounds cool.”

John fiddles with Dirk’s array of gaming utilities until the screen is replaced with the menu for some gaming console you have altogether forgotten the name of. You’re not even sure if it’s just amnesia. Five years can make you forget a lot of things.

John navigates the menus until an intro sequence begins. John doesn’t skip it. Judging by the look on his face, it’s because of nostalgia. You watch as a bunch of Nintendo characters you alternatively recognize and don’t flash across the screen elegantly corresponding to the thundering orchestra and vocals sung in what you’d guess to be Latin. It’s a bit unsettling if you’re being honest, but John seems to think otherwise. He almost looks awestruck. You can only describe it as aderpable.

He hands you a remote shaped vaguely like a wand. It’s not only familiar, it’s practically déjà vu.

“Do you remember this? It was the last game we played together before…”

He cuts himself off but manages to maintain his goofy grin.

“Not really.”

“Really? You used to be so good at it!”

“Is that an excuse for losing to someone playing this game for the first time?”

“Shut up!”

His smile seems to have grown wider. How the hell does that work? Did he seriously miss you enough to like your habitual snark?

You feel this is a valid excuse to pile it on as much as possible.

“But however could you live without the beautiful melody of my voice if I did?”

“Oh my god Dave.”

He just looks so happy. It’s sweet that you can do this; nice, knowing you’re not (entirely) just a burden and a reminder of what once was. You still feel like a puzzle piece struggling to fit in the wrong puzzle, but at least it’s not too terrible of a fit.

“Your ear drums would shrivel up in starvation from lack of my sustaining soprano and soon your soul would follow suit. Only a withered husk would remain.”

“Just pick a character!"

The exasperation in his voice is obviously false. He’s clearly entertained by your tangents, and you can’t say you aren’t yourself.

Redirecting your attention to the screen you notice you’re at character select screen with all of those Nintendo characters. After giving the cast a cursory examination, you pick Princess Peach, eliciting a giggle from John, who goes with Link.

Picking up the controls is surprisingly easy and soon you’re making Peach fling her gigantic exploding ass all over the place.

“Eat the ass John. Eat it.”

He’s trying desperately to keep up with your ass and failing. Every time he comes near you he gets an ass to the face. He even tries spamming bombs in order to fight from afar, but to no avail. You have turnips and you best believe your turnips be much more bitchin’ than those shitty bombs of his.

“How could you have possibly gotten even better at this?”

You shrug, then proceed to knock him off-screen with a well-timed swing of a golf club, taking his last life.

“Can’t handle the Peach John? Is the Peach too much for you? Zelda got nothing on this.”

“Pffffffffahahahahahahaha!”

John just loses it. You’re not entirely sure why. You simply stare at him as he slowly gets reigns on his uncontrollable laughter.

“It’s so nice to have you back Dave.”

Dirk suddenly injects himself out of nowhere straight into the conversation. “Speaking of which, it’s getting kind of late. Don’t you need to be home or something?”

“I’m not a kid Dirk. I don’t have a curfew.”

“So you already told Jane all about where you are?”

“I… no… one moment…”

He dials up what you assume to be Jane. Dirk motions you over. You get up and join him in the kitchen. John doesn’t take his eyes off of you two as if the moment he does you’ll evaporate into the aether.

“You ok?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“How’s your hand?”

“Fine.”

You get the sense this is about something else. Dirk isn’t the motherly type.

“So where do you wanna sleep tonight?”

Bingo. Though you can’t say you know Dirk all that well, he’s the most perceptive motherfucker you know. He’s like a fucking psychic.

“Sleep already?”

“It’s midnight.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I don’t think Jake’s coming home any time soon…”

“I don’t think I’m getting any sleep any time soon.”

“I can sleep on the floor if that’d help.”

Yep. He knows exactly what’s going on here.

“Uh… sure, ok… can I just not sleep yet? I’m not tired.”

“I’m not your mom. Go kick John’s ass for me a few more times.”

You extend your fist. Dirk reciprocates, bumping it.

You turn back to the couch to find John just hanging up.

“Hey Dirk, is it ok if I stay the night?”

“You’re sleeping on the couch.”

“Thanks!” He turns to you with that smile that’s just… adorable. Fuck aderpable, you admit it. He’s hot. So is Dirk, Jake, and yourself. Fucking everyone is hot up in here. Hell, even the nurse back at the hospital wasn’t bad-looking. Maybe it’s hormones catching up with you, maybe that’s why you kissed Jake. (Yep, that’s the excuse you’re going with.) You’ve been locked up for 5 years; surely all that pubescent sexual frustration didn’t just vanish, now did it?

This is the poor excuse you come up with for the boner you are nursing with much subtlety. In retrospect, it’s probably more from nothing than it is from John. Maybe you think about things too much.

“You ready for a rematch Dave?”

“You ready to get your ass handed to you in 5 different ways?”

You were definitely thinking about how you were playing with 5 lives each and not the 5 sex positions sitting poignantly at the forefront of your thoughts. Definitely.

“Bring it on!”

You two play late into the night. The only time John wins is when you stop trying to win and start focusing on destroying the sidewalks in skyworld. You are the scourge of skyworld. It’s you. Pit got even less on this than Zelda.

You two eventually switch over to TV. John loves movies apparently and tries his hardest to find the worst movie possible, but has to settle for a mediocre movie instead. Before you even figure out what’s going on in the plot, you’re sleeping on the couch next to him.


	12. Two Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brick.

The horizon is black again.

Once more you’re in a pitch-black space. You’re getting real tired of this shit. You’ve been here three times before. You’re done with this, so completely done with this repetitive hallucinogenic bullshit. You are ollying the fuck outie.

Once more you’re in a pitch-black space. Before you stands yourself, a smug smirk on your face. In every single way the figure before you is Dave, but… not you?

“You’re a fake.”

At first you think you are the one to say it, but from the way he moved his mouth, you start to doubt yourself. You watch as the entity smirks at the doubt apparently written all over your face before walking past you, completely ignoring you. When you turn around, you see that what other Dave is really walking to what you barely recognize as John somehow chained to the featureless ground by a metal collar around his neck. He’s shirtless and wearing jeans splattered in a deep, dark red. Bruises and cuts litter his body encompassing a wide variety of angles and colors. He looks much thinner, the outlines of his ribs clearly visible and his wrists thin enough to wrap fingers around.

What unsettles you about the scene is the faint smile he wears on those lips of his combined with the glazed look in his eyes. You can’t decide whether the crooked smile on the other Dave’s face as he steps closer to him is worse or not.

You watch extraneously as the other Dave pulls out a knife from nowhere to drag it languidly up John’s arm. John’s smile widens but falters, his eyes looking as if they’re on the brink of tears. It’s painful to watch and looks like it requires a great deal of self-restraint. Other Dave looks to be enjoying himself far too much for the look on his face to remain within comfortable boundaries. The entire scene is rather horrifying. The look of terror behind John’s eyes and the frenetic air of excitement about the other Dave make it seem like your own personal horror movie.

While you try and fail to lose yourself in thought, Dave drags the knife across John’s cheek, slowly licking the blood trickling from the fresh wound. You decide you’ve had enough of this shit and decide to strangle other Dave. Seriously, just fuck that guy who _definitely isn’t you_.

You grip his (your) neck as tight as you can muster, pushing his (your) head down against the ground and hoping he (you) just stops breathing.

He’s (You’re) wearing this sickeningly smug smirk on his face. You squeeze as tight as you can, but you’re accomplishing nothing. His (Your) smile simply widens until he (you) breaks out laughing in a cackle that in so many ways is yours and yet not. You pull and push, banging his (your) head against the ground in frustration, but to no avail. He (you) only laughs louder and louder until its ringing so loudly in your ears you fear permanent hearing damage You can’t fathom how anyone could laugh so loudly, but it was getting painful. You just wish he’d (you’d) stop. That he’d (you’d) just go away. That he’d (you’d) just die. That he’d stop banging your head against the ground. That he’d stop hurting you. That he’d just get out and let you be you.

When you wake, it’s to the most physical pain you’ve ever experienced in your short life. Your head is throbbing and tears quickly escape. Something must’ve hit you in the head, of that much you can be sure.

You don’t pay much attention to the things around you as you lie on the ground in the fetal position, nursing a small lump that stung by virtue of existence. You remember a dream of hurting John and strangling yourself, but it’s nothing more than a vague memory now. It’s not until the brunt of the pain subsides that you clear your head of the fog of sleep and listen to what goes on around you.

John is breathing heavily and Dirk is telling him to take deep breaths. When you sit up, turning to face them, Dirk already has his arms around you and yours from behind, restricting you with much more force that you feel necessary.

“Dave.”

Oh shit. His voice is low. That can’t be good.

“Dirk, you’re scaring me.”

“Dave, I need to know if you are ok.”

He enunciates each word slowly; purposefully. You know exactly what this is about, and this is freaking terrifying.

“Let me go Dirk… please, I don’t…” You shut your eyes. You’re starting to dread your possibilities here. “I don’t want to go back to that place and I don’t want to hurt anyone. Dirk, this is fucking scary as shit.” You want him to stop. You know you can trust him, but you are starting to doubt the faith you have in yourself, and him holding you really wasn’t helping you get a grip.

You blink away the wetness in your eyes and press on.

“I don’t want to sleep anymore Dirk, please don’t make me.”

He loosens his grip to let his arms drop and turns you around to face him.

“Dave…”

“No, don’t even let me. Jesus fucking Christ that was so stupid. I should have never gotten comfortable on that couch last night. Fuck that couch.”

His face is blank. He’s hesitating with whatever the fuck goes on in that head of his. Knowing him, it’s probably about something 5 days away.

You move past him to John, still breathing heavily next to the couch.

“John, are you ok?”

“Dave, I’m fine.”

“Bullshit.”

“Really Dave, it’s ok.”

“No, it’s not ok. You’re not fine, I just fucking attacked you right? Did I hurt you? Shit…”

John’s smile widens. On one hand it’s gorgeous. On another, you know he’s just going to deny you did anything. You wish he’d cut the crap. You want to fix whatever you did (If it was something in the dream, you’re pretty sure it was bad) and you can’t do that properly if you don’t know what the damage is.

“Dave, it was just a bad dream. It’d be stupid to hold that against you. Now come on, I want one more rematch before you go!”

“Go?”

Dirk speaks up here. “You know how they let you out of the hospital just like that? Well, there’s a condition. You gotta attend mandatory therapy every week. You’re scheduled for today.”

“You could have mentioned that earlier.”

“…You’re right.”

“Come on Dave!”

John drags you away, and you’re forced to forget about the events of the morning to maintain your reputation as the goddess of turnips. Your imaginary adoring fans are not disappointed.

After hastily scarfing down bacon and eggs, (Dirk is a fucking saint, you swear) Dirk takes you down to the parking lot and to the truck you were picked up in. Judging by the color scheme you have now gotten acquainted with, it was his and not Jake’s. John leaves in his own car, saying he’s going to pick up some movies and offers to pick you up after your session.

“What do you think, do you mind if he picks you up?”

“Not really?”

“Good. I’ve been falling behind on my sewing.”

“ _Sewing?_ ”

“Yeah. I run a puppet porn site. It rakes in millions.”

“Huh.” You thought it was weird and even kind of creepy, but whatever puts cash in the wallet you guess.

Dirk yells out your answer to John from across the parking lot and takes off. Looking out the window, you think the rising sun ironic, as if it prophesizes things getting better.

The sun is a filthy fucking liar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He lied so hard, his pants lit on fire with so much heat that it induced nuclear fusion.


	13. Lensed Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is in denial.

Dave is just fine.

You finally have him back.

Dave is just fine.

You’ve waited so long and now he’s finally back.

Dave is just fine.

He’s not going anywhere anymore; he’s here to solve the horrid problem that is your life.

Dave is just fine.

Dave is just fine.

Dave is just fine.

**Dave is just fine.**

Dave is just fine, you decide. You’ve spent a lot of time wishing for this, so it’s definitely not going to be you who points fingers and tries to tear down the lovely background so painstakingly made for this glorious play. You guess you didn’t take the incident well. In fact, you probably dealt with it really poorly, but now Dave is back. While it might have been nice to reminisce or for him to not choke you in his sleep, Dave is your best friend and you are sticking with him through thick and thin. You don’t really have that many friends otherwise since you stopped talking to Rose. Roxy’s pretty nice, but you can’t go anywhere near her without Rose prying into your business. Dirk and Jake are more like acquaintances, and you really don’t get that much time with them since they spend so much time together. Jane is less like a sister and more like a mother. You’ve been living with her ever since your dad past away, which, come to think of it, you didn’t handle very well either.

Shit. You almost forgot about Jane. The explanation you gave her last night was pretty shitty and you basically ignored every question she asked. She’s bound to demand answers, and considering Jane was pretty good friends with your cousin Jade, she’s not going to like when you tell her the reason you vanished without telling her is because Dave’s back. She might outright ban you from seeing him. You decide there and then that if it comes to that, you’re going to ask Dirk if you can move in.

Pulling into the driveway of your suburban house, you step out of the car and take a good, long look at the house. You can tell already that this won’t end well. It’s as if the house is wearing a gaudy coat made of doom. Foreboding permeates its very essence.

Opening the front door, your nostrils are immediately assaulted with the smell of baking. You really aren’t in the mood for cake. Your father used to bake incessantly, and although Jane has lowered the baked goods output to much more tolerable levels, you still think she bakes far too much.

“ **John!?** ” Shit you’re fucked.

Jane emerges from the kitchen donning an apron and eyes that could drill holes through cruise liners. It’s time to start groveling.

“Hey Jane.”

“Where were you? You had me worried!”

“Jane, we’ve been over this. You’re not my mom, you don’t need to worry about me so much.” That wasn’t groveling. What the hell are you doing?  
“Are you kidding me!? It doesn’t matter if I’m your mom or not, I worry about you. You’ve been so moody all the time and now you’re disappearing overnight! How am I supposed to interpret that?”

“You’re not supposed to interpret that. Jane, I’m fine. I promise. I’ve never been more fine, I-“

“John, where were you last night?”

“I was with Dirk. I-“

“John! You’re the one that’s been getting in between Dirk and Jake?”

“I- wait… what!?”

“I know Jake’s been at Roxy’s house and I know it’s because of relationship issues, but really John? I expected better from you! Besides, I thought you weren’t a homosexual! I thought you trusted me!”

“Jane, what the hell are you talking about?” The amount of confusion quickly filling your head to the brim is making it hurt.

“Don’t even try to lie to me John! I’m through with your lies! Just leave me alone from now on! I can’t believe you would do something like that!”

She storms off into the kitchen and you are far too confused to stop her. In fact, you think you’ll take her advice, just take some of your stuff and leave…

Gathering up your essential items, a week’s worth of clothing and a ton of your favorite movies, you depart from the house, not even bothering to see Jane frosting her freshly made stress cake. You guess you’re not on good terms with her, though it’s based on a misunderstanding and thus easily undone. In the meantime, she should leave you alone, so you guess it’s an acceptable outcome.

After leaving the house and tossing your stuff into the trunk of your car, you put the key in ignition and pester Dirk.

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] –-

EB: so i think jane thinks you cheated on jake with me, and i guess i kind of let her think that so that she’d leave me alone?  
EB: anyway, do you mind me living with you and dave?  
TT: That is so many different levels of ironic. You have no idea.  
TT: How the hell could I possibly say no?  
EB: cool. now when does dave’s session end?  
TT: About 10 minutes from now. You remember where, right?  
EB: yep! i’m on my way now.  
EB: oh, and thanks dirk, for everything.  
TT: Don’t mention it.

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] –-

You start your car and head out. Before you even get on the road you start thinking about how you’re going to be spending time with Dave. You have your job to take care of, and as soon as you got the news you went straight to Dirk’s, basically abandoning your shift as a nurse. (good training for being a doctor and looks good on the resume of a chemist; you still haven’t made up your mind) However, you did put on quite the show in your exit, so you think you’ll be given some leeway for your absence. From the way you rushed out of there, you’re pretty sure they think your mother was being held hostage or something.

You don’t really want to think about work. You want to think about Dave. You’ve fantasized about your reunion for quite some time now if you’re being honest with yourself, and now you have all the time in the world to catch up. All those days visiting him in that padded room you knew he’d come back to you and now it’s happening. Tonight you are going to watch Con Air with your best bro Dave. You have waited so long to use that sentence. You thought it was going to happen when you met a little over 5 years ago. You thought the exact same thing earlier that day. You can’t help but feel as if it’s an omen, but you quickly brush that aside. You haven’t been acting like it lately, but you’re the optimistic one, right? Surely someone has to fill in the deficiency in spirit Jade has left in her wake, and you can’t expect Dave or Dirk to do so. You decide then and there that you will be Dave’s anchor. No matter what happens, you will do your best to keep him from losing himself like he did before.

Lost in your thoughts, the transit goes by quickly and you soon find yourself grinning as Dave, already waiting out front, gets in the passenger seat of your car.

“How was therapy?”

“Frustrating.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“If you say so… So anyway, I bought a ton of my favorite movies that we can watch together! They’re in the back seat, you can go pick one out now if you want.”

He gives you a blank look with some sort of facial expression concealed behind his shades before he leans into the backseat, retrieving a stack of DVDs. He sets them on his lap and begins looking through them. He goes through the pile quite fast.

“John, I’m sorry, but these all look like pieces of shit.”

“What? You still think that? No way! Those movies are awesome. You have no idea.”

“I don’t, all I have is a hunch whispering in my ears. Do you hear it John? It is the voice of god. He is telling me to smite you for such shitty taste in movies, but I’m like naw man, John is the shit. He’s just like ‘oh, that’s ok Dave, I can never hold anything against you. I will spare John and trust your all-knowing badassery.’ I saved your life John. I hope you’re grateful.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize. You have my permanent debt. I will now pay off this debt with McDonalds.”

“McDonalds?”

“You don’t remember McDonalds? Oh my god Dave, how can you call yourself an American?”

“A what now?”

“Holy shit this is going to be fun.”

“For you, probably.”

You break out laughing as you pull into the McDonald’s drive-through. You get the 20-piece chicken nuggets with a pepsi for you, a coke for Dave, and large fries for each of you. You idly acknowledge how obsessive you were over those 5 years in that you’d know what Dave would like. You’ve reread every single pesterlog you’ve had with him at least once, a fact you aren’t exactly proud of. You regret nothing.

When you get the food you offer him the open box of nuggets. It is safe to say the look on his face when he takes that first bite was priceless. Your prankster’s gambit achieved echelons you never knew existed and it wasn’t even a prank.

“Holy shit these nuggets.”

“I thought you’d remember them, but the look on your face says otherwise.”

He quickly corrects his facial expression to return to his neutral façade.

“John, why was I not informed of this sooner?”

“What, McDonalds?”

“No, the feathery asshole tangoing in the subway. Yes, McDonalds. I'm the most American anything ever period.”

You try to think of something clever, but alas. You are not a rambler like him. The best you can come up with is “what about an Eagle?”

“I don’t even know what American is, but I’m pretty sure subways and tangoing aren’t American John.”

“Oh yeah?”

You drive over to the nearest Subway. You already had food, but you think it would be nice to get Dirk something, and you neglected to do so at McDonalds. As you drive up to it, Dave simply turns and says “Seriously?”

Chatting all the way there and educating Dave about countries, you don’t even notice when you miss the turn for Dirk’s apartment. You’re pretty sure Dave didn’t notice and so you don’t think he’ll notice if you miss it again...

It’s not like you don’t like Dirk. He’s doing you such a huge favor and he’s a nice guy overall, but you like spending some time with Dave, just the two of you. Alas, it can’t last forever and once around the block is enough wasting time. You have movies to watch! Excitement permeates your very psyche in anticipation of fulfilling that dumb fantasy of watching Con Air with Dave. Soon you’re parking your car in the parking lot just as Dave finishes a spiel about why the sun is cheating on its wife or something. You missed his rambles. They were always so funny.

You put all the food back into the bag for Dave to carry, then get your stuff out of the trunk and your movies out of the back. He gives you a questioning look, but says nothing.

You continue your chat on the merits of firing the sun from its job and paying the moon double to replace it as you make your way back into the apartment. As soon as you get there, you pop in a movie and declare it movie night. You have the movie lineup already, picking ones you thought Dave wouldn’t think were shitty. It starts at The Magician’s Apprentice, goes through Kick-Ass and National Treasure, then finishes at Con Air. Anything past that is a bonus.

Dirk welcomes you back, but not without staying in the crawlspace, sewing from what you can hear. You offer the food you got him. He thanks you, then tells you you’re sleeping on the couch tonight. You’re just fine with that.

Several movies, hours, and one sing-along to ‘how do I live without you’ later, you find yourself nodding off. Dave seems eager to stay awake, and Dirk seems to support it judging by how he offers orange soda to the two of you when he finally comes out. You fall asleep on the couch once more, drifting off as you listen to Dave’s commentary on the current movie.

It’s so nice to hear his voice again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The sun is cheating on its wife._


	14. Glazed Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk's shit capacity, overworked, has begun extruding outward. John cannot believe this shit.

When you wake up, it’s to the sounds of Dave yelling.

Looking around you, you find Dave nowhere in sight. You immediately rush to Dirk’s room to find Dave sitting up in bed, breathing heavily. Dirk, still on the floor from where he assumably slept last night looks ready to pounce. It seems you didn’t miss a thing. Well aren’t you lucky.

“Oh my shit.” Dave sounds tired with a slurred edge vaguely resembling a Texas accent.

“Dave, are you ok?” Dirk says it with an uncharacteristic tightness, but you doubt you could manage to say something as calmly as him right now. You’re kind of freaking out right now. You don’t know what pattern there is to be found with what happens when he wakes up, but last time he tried to strangle you. You don’t hold this against him of course, but you don’t want to be around Dave when he’s just awoken unless Dirk is there. Dirk is a fucking ninja.

Dave takes his shades off of the bedside dresser, puts them on, then simply looks at Dirk with a straight face. You have no idea what he’s going to do, but you get a sinking feeling forecasting imminent doom.

Instead, Dave bursts out laughing.

“PFFFHAHAHA! HOLY SHIT!”

He brings his hands up to his face to wipe at his eyes under his shades. It is only then do you notice he’s wearing handcuffs. You’ve never seen Dave smile so hard before.

“Dirk, what the hell is going on?”

“I-“

“BROOOOOOO!”

Dave jumps on top of Dirk with his hands over his head, knocking them both to the floor. Dave is laughing like a madman and Dirk looks like he’s made a terrible, terrible mistake.  
Dirk gently pushes Dave off of him and stands up to look at you. Dave is literally rolling on the floor laughing. It would be funny under different circumstances, but right now it just worries you.

“I, uh…”

Dirk crosses his arms and looks down at Dave, clearly in thought. Instantly you mentally accuse him.

“I guess I kind of… drugged him?”

“You did _what_?” What the actual fuck.

“He obviously wasn’t going to go to sleep by himself, so I put a little something in his soda to help him sleep.”

“You didn’t even tell him!?” Seriously, what the fuck.

“If I told him, he wouldn’t have taken it, now would he?”

“You know what happens when he wakes up from a nightmare! He had every right to be scared and you forced him into it!”

“That’s what the handcuffs were for. If he doesn’t hurt anybody he has nothing to feel bad about.”

“Why do you own handcuffs? Wait, never mind, don’t answer that. Um… Why is he acting like this?”

“It could be a side effect.”

“Even after sleeping?”

“I might have given him a bit too much.”

“Oh my god Dirk. What the fuck.”

“I wasn’t going to let him stay awake for days only for him to give up and face another nightmare. That’s a dark path to go down that only ends in sleep deprivation and stress.”

“I mean… yeah, he’s got to sleep, but this wasn’t the way to do it!”

“Do you have any better ideas?”

“Well… no…”

“Has he hurt himself or others?”

“…No…”

“Does he look like he’s on the brink of a panic attack like all the other nights?”

You look down at Dave, who was now trying to balance his shades on his nose. You had to admit that he had a point.

“No, but…” You have reached the end of your rope. Even though you feel this is wrong, you can’t find much usable leverage for a rebuttal at this point. Dirk has too much logic. You can’t compete with that.

“What about how he’s acting now? You can’t keep doing this to him all the time.”

“I don’t plan to. I plan on making sure he doesn’t have somniphobia. He can’t keep taking pills and he can’t just stay awake all the time. He’ll just have to use the handcuffs until he gets better.”

“And what if he doesn’t get better?”

When you say it, you mentally kick yourself. Can you get any dumber? He’ll get sent back to the mental hospital is what. You’re not going to let that happen. You can’t afford to lose Dave again. You’re done crying over it. You’ll make him better yourself. You swear it.

“Then I’ll make him the fluffiest straightjacket ever made to sleep in. Comfortable clothing everywhere will weep at their sheer inferiority and wish they could offer something vaguely resembling a fraction of the comfort afforded by the overwhelming magnanimity of that straight jacket.”

“That sounds like a comfortable straightjacket.” It comforts you more than Dirk will ever know to know that he would do the same for Dave as you.

“You have no idea.” He looks down at Dave, who had returned his shades to his face and was wearing a derpy smile, looking up at the two of you and playing with his chains.

“I’ll go make breakfast.”

He leaves, leaving you alone with a drugged, handcuffed Dave. You offer him a hand to pull him up. He takes it, though when you pull, he jumps up, shouts “JOHNY BOY!” and puts his hands over your shoulders and his lips on yours.

Your glasses clink and your mind goes blank.

…What.

The situation as a whole completely fails to compute with you for about 10 seconds.

When your processor becomes unfrozen, you feel your face heat up. Dave’s lips are on yours and the more you don’t think about it, the longer this kiss is. Jesus Christ, you’re enjoying this aren’t you you sick fuck.

You push Dave away. He’s still smiling with that adorable (fuck, no, stop thinking about that) look on his face.

“Dave, just… sit… please.”

You push him down to the bed and try to calm down your heart rate. (Why is it so high?) You’ve never even considered Dave romantically. You’ve never thought of any male romantically, but now before you is your best friend, suddenly at lot sexier than you’ve noticed before and fuck this.

You don’t want to ruin anything. You’re content with him being your best bro forever. Fucking everything up with an awkward proposal is the epitome of things you do not want to do right now. Besides, you don’t think Dave is… wait… Never mind, he was kissing Jake. You still don’t know what that was about, but it wasn’t like he was pushing Jake away.  
“Problem John?” He sounds completely drunk. What were in those pills, alcohol?

“Dave, just… get some rest or something.” You push him to lay down on the bed. He doesn’t resist, but starts laughing again.

You now decide to take your grievances out on Dirk. You turn to leave the room but immediately see Dirk standing in the doorway. How long has he been there?

“I got the key to the handcuffs, but it seems you like things kinky.”

He flash steps away as you yell “FUCK YOU” loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

“John, I can’t sleep.”

You turn to see Dave under a blanket.

“Dave, we just woke up.”

“Can you sleep with me?”

“What?”

Dave lifts up the blanket and gestures for you to join him. You huff, but get in. Beep beep beep; all aboard the idiot wagon. You said you would help him no matter what, but this is pretty unnecessary…

Who are you kidding. The only reason you got in bed with him was to be closer to him, isn’t that right you perverted swine?

Before you realize it, Dave is snuggling up against your shoulder and you feel yourself go stiff. This is stupid. Nice, but stupid. You’re about to leave and tell him so when you realize he’s already sleeping.

It puts a smile on your face. You don’t want to think about the implications of your new interest in Dave, because as far as you’re concerned, it’s not a thing that needs to exist. You stealthily creep out of bed, tucking the sheets back over him and begin your day. Maybe you should fail to neglect your job this time.


	15. Empty Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Oh shit I did not see that coming.'

It’s as you’re eating sushi that you hear the scream.

Dave’s woken up.

You abandon your meal to find him in the bed, crying quietly. You quickly stride over to him and hold him wherein he grips your shirt with undue urgency.

“Dirk…”

“I’m here.”

You rub circles into his back in your best attempt to be comforting.

“It was just another nightmare.”

You wonder when the nightmares will go away. He seems coherent enough to mean that the violent episodes have stopped, but your pessimism tells you it’s not the last you’ve seen of it. In any case, you trust Dave. It has been nagging at the back of your mind for a while that he’ll only get worse, but he’s improving. He’s finally improving and for a moment you wonder if your hug is more for you than it is for him.

That is, until he punches your stomach. Then you’re sure of it.

You recoil more than you’d like, off the bed and onto the ground. You like to believe you’ve kept yourself sharp over the years, but you know your skills and stamina have dulled, even more so since Dave came. You reason this to be why he got the chains of his handcuffs around your throat and his foot between your shoulder blades before you could react.

As cold and calculating as you are, even under threat of death you’re sparing your pride with excuses for your carelessness. How pathetic.

Where did you go wrong? Did you let your plan have a flaw? No, it couldn’t be. Dave was completely coherent. You have accounted for every single contingency. He couldn’t be let out simply by suddenly attaining a talent for acting, could he?

“Dirk.”

His voice is low; dangerous. This is not the Dave you know. This is not the Dave you used to know. This is not the Dave you’ve come to contain. This…

“Five years.”

Five years.

“Five fucking years.”

Five long, painful years.

“You left me in there to rot to death for five fucking years. Five years! For five years I was alone in a shitty room with no one! How often did you visit me? Once a week? Once a month? Newsflash asshole, that’s still 43670 hours of nothing! 43670 hours of staring at a wall hoping that it would scream just to fill the emptiness!”

You’re trying your hardest to push the chains forward, to get some oxygen, but you’re failing. Already you feel yourself lightheaded. Your sensory faculties are blurring at the edges, not that you have time to pay attention to any of it between all of the adrenaline. Still yet you hear Dave. You hear him loud and clear and his words sting worse than the rustiest of knives.

“What the hell did you think you were even doing when you were there? You just stared at me like I was the worst thing that ever happened to you. **You fucking asshole!** ”

He tugs harder and the edges of your vision are fading to white and you can feel your consciousness draining. Your lungs burn desperately, screaming at you for air you cannot provide and something in your throat may very well be bleeding from all the pressure put on it. Still yet, what hurts most are Dave’s words. You don’t want it to go down like this. You can’t just let the book close and let the audience think Cinderella was sold into human trafficking; you need to tell him he’s wrong. You need to tell him…

He starts laughing.

“HAHAHAHAHA!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! **AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!** The- heh… The funny part is, I somehow get let out of that hellhole, and, get this, you dye your hair and dump me onto Jake! **ISN’T THAT FUCKING HILARIOUS? AM I NOT GOOD ENOUGH OF A BROTHER FOR YOU? IS THAT IT ASSHOLE?**

‘I… love… you.’

You want to say it. You want to say it so much, but your lungs are empty. You’ve run out of alternatives. You’re done.

“Fuck you Dirk.”

Things go black.

…

When you wake, you almost wish you hadn’t.

It’s pitch-black and your body burns all over. Your face (among other places) feels like someone decided to try making pottery out of it and gave up half way through. A hand to your face and realize you’re bleeding, but that’s the least of your concerns.

The floor is soft. You reach out, but the ceiling is right above you lying down. Not quite as soft, but still cushioned. There are walls immediately to all 6 directions around you and none budge. Aside from the ceiling, they all feel just as soft as the ground; perhaps made of velvet.

You’re in a coffin.

Tears fall from your eyes. You don’t cry, no, the tears just come. They roll down your emotionless, naked face. You aren’t wearing shades and you’re glad no one can see your shame. You fucked up. You’ve failed your brother, you’ve failed yourself, he’s going back to the hospital to be locked away and you’re going to die here.

It’s the end. There’s nothing more. You are going to suffocate and die a slow, painful death. John’s probably going to commit suicide and Dave is going to die in a padded room alone. There’s no fucking point in maintaining a poker face. It’s fucking over.

Your fists clench. You shut your eyes in the darkness. _Fuck_. You pound the roof of your coffin. It can’t end like this. No. Fuck. **FUCK**. **IT CAN’T**. **END**. **LIKE**. **THIS**. “ **FUCK!** ”

You yell as loud as you possibly can. You yell and yell until your throat hurts. You pound and pound until your fists start to bleed and tiny amounts of dirt trickle into the coffin, making you cough even more than your flaming throat.

No one can hear you.


	16. Bloodied Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave is not a medical professional.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is more to come.

You’re feeling pretty good about yourself today.

You got back into work recently at your job as a nurse (there’s some fancy term for your position that isn’t ‘registered nurse’, but you upgrade it to nurse whenever you talk about it anyway) without much issue and have just been informed via text that a CT scan you ordered on a patient revealed appendicitis and that you have saved a life. It’s quite rewarding really. You can’t wait to tell Dave.

Right now you’re on your way home to do just that. You even picked up a pizza. You won’t tell him, but you always thought about eating pizza with him; he’d always tell you about how he’d eat so much pizza and you would imagine yourself eating with him and being bros while watching con air…

This is exactly why it’d be really stupid of you to hit on him. That could ruin everything. You might as well be painting polka dots onto the white house. Your friendship is enough. It’s enough, you’re sure. You’re reminiscing about longing for something completely platonic that you’ve already done. You are not going to fuck this up.

Soon enough you’re at the apartment going up the elevator with pizza in hand. You’re wearing a smile from sheer excitement. You can’t wait to tell Dave the news. Your smile falters however when you get to the top floor and the first thing you hear is Dave crying. Shouldn’t Dirk be all over that? You open the door to the apartment and the crying comes to an abrupt halt.

“Dave?”

You see Dave walk around the corner between the room and the entrance to the apartment. He’s still wearing the handcuffs from before, but he’s missing his shades, which strikes you as particularly odd. His eyes are red; not just the iris, but the sclera as well. He’d been crying for a while you guess. You move to put the pizza down but practically drop it onto the floor when Dave runs up to you and hugs you tight, his crying resuming its previous pace. You put your arms around him and reciprocate the hug. You note that you don’t like seeing him sad like this.

“Dave, what’s wrong? Where’s Dirk?”

“John, I…”

His crying gets worse. His body is shuttering and your shoulder is getting wet from tears dripping down his chin. Shit. They had a fight didn’t they? You suppose it makes sense, Dirk not getting his actual brother back. He retains his personality well enough for it not to make too hurtful of a difference for you, but growing up with him is probably a different story, given his memory. Maybe Dirk revealed his true hair color and some things were said some people regret? You can’t say you’re very good at analyzing situations.

“It’s all right, I’m here for you. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“John, I fucked up really badly.”

“What’s wrong?” You repeat it calmly, but you’re starting to get a bit worried. Troubles roll off of Dirk like water off a duck’s back, so if it’s this bad, Rose might have to get involved.

“I… I strangled Dirk.”

“That’s not your fault Dave, and besides, he’s dealt with worse. Jake has a thing for ‘fisticuffs’ and-“

“No, John, you don’t understand, I strangled him until he stopped moving. I saw the whole fucking thing right in front of my eyes and it didn’t even occur to me that I should do something. Jesus fuck John, I killed him. Then I decided he wasn’t dead enough and started hitting him…”

His voice catches several times. You stand there in awe. Your mind is blank. You try to process the words he says but things they fail to register.

“I’m no fucking better than I was before… it’d be better if you just sent me back to the hospital…”

“No.”

“What?”

You are feeling extremely triggered right now. That is all there is to say on the matter.

“You’re not going back to the hospital.”

Dave is not fucking going back to the hospital. He’ll only get worse there, you’re sure of it. If he’s so volatile, he’s not going to be let around others. He’s going to descend back into the depths of insanity as his therapy fails him, his support group fails him, and ultimately you fail him as you are forced to get on with a life you could care less about without him. White walls and white clothing is going to drive him further down the border of depression and anxiety, this you are sure of. You aren’t Rose, but you are positive this is true. (You’re almost certain you feel a disturbance in the force by even thinking that for some reason)

“What? John… I can’t…”

“Yes, you can. I’m not going to let you go anywhere.”

“But John, I killed-“

“It doesn’t matter. You didn’t kill him, you were just forced to spectate. It’s all going to be fine now. You’re going to be fine.”

“John-“

“Shhh.”

Dirk would want this.

Dirk would want you to do this.

…Probably…

You hold him tight as he holds you letting him pour out his emotions, but you are strong. You’re not going to grieve for Dirk just yet, no. You still have the body to dispose of. When it is given a proper burial, then you’ll cry. You’ll cry for Dave, you’ll cry for Jake, you’ll cry for yourself, and you’ll cry for Dirk. He was truly a great friend and it hurts to lose him, or so you think. It’s not real to you yet. You aren’t feeling the loss just yet. You’ll need this to keep yourself composed while you get rid of the body. You won’t break down the moment you see it. You promise yourself this.

You fear it means absolutely nothing.

As Dave calms himself, you decide sooner is better than later to get rid of the corpse. After setting Dave down to sit on the couch and drink some fresh hot chocolate. (Which he claims is highly inappropriate for the situation. You counter that it’ll help him relax) You steel your nerves and walk into the room.

You find Dirk lying on the ground with a blood-splattered, heavily bruised face. Dirk, completely dead.

You concede that maybe his death is getting to you more than you thought. It’s almost as if you’re imagining his chest moving. ‘Hahaha’, funny prank that would be. (and by funny you mean absolutely terrible.) That would be impossible. He’s dead. You’re not even going to check for a pulse. No, you’re not. He’s dead. He has to be.

…

Dirk can’t send Dave back to the hospital. He’s dead.

Dirk can’t breathe. He’s dead.

Like a mantra you chant it. Dirk is dead. Dirk is dead. Dirk is dead.

You leave Dave at home when you sneak the body into the empty parking lot; that way you can say it out loud. You feel you need the emphasis. You need to convince yourself before you check for a pulse.

You can’t lose Dave. You are **not** going to let him send him back to that wretched place.

Dirk is dead.

He has to be.

It only makes sense; you’re not a murderer.

Dirk. Is. Dead.

You take this to be fact as you pick out a modest wooden coffin. You take this to be fact as you buy a shovel and drive out of town. You take this to be fact as you dig as deep as you can. You take this to be fact when you lie him in the coffin and bury him. You take it to be fact as you say it over and over. Dirk is dead. You’re not a liar. Dirk is dead. You’re not a murderer. Dirk is dead. You save lives for a living. Dirk is dead. You’re saving Dave’s. Dirk is dead. No wait, forget that last part, Dirk can't hurt Dave because he’s dead.

Right?

You drive a little over the speed limit on your way back to Dave.

You two end up crying the rest of the night.

Both the pizza and the unfinished sushi on the counter go uneaten.


End file.
